


standing calmly at the crossroads, no desire to run

by seeingrightly



Series: still i'm thinking about you only [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 06:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeingrightly/pseuds/seeingrightly
Summary: Hermann visits Newt as soon as they’ll let him.Letisn’t exactly the right word for it, and neither isthey, truth be told. It’s been a few hours since the apocalypse was canceled again, and no one is really in charge of the PPDC anymore, are they - in fact, Hermann might be the most senior person left. It was mainly children even before Marshal Quan and most of the pilots died, and now it’s Hermann, Nate Lambert and the Pentecost boy, a handful of teenagers, and a few others here and there, as well as Liwen Shao, who doesn’t actually work with them. Pentecost had locked up Newt, unconscious and bleeding, and is waiting for him to wake up when Hermann finds him.





	standing calmly at the crossroads, no desire to run

**Author's Note:**

> this elaborate fix-it all happened because two months ago i woke up to a text from [lindsey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky) that was like "wait when does hermann find out alice isn't a human" and immediately wrote up a full outline, oops
> 
> ty to lindsey, [alicia](http://rocketfool.tumblr.com), [tommy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ellameno/pseuds/retrovertigo), and [melissa](http://theverytiredgirl.tumblr.com) for all editing this from wildly different perspectives
> 
> title is from "when all is said and done" by abba because i watched mamma mia for the first time while writing this :/
> 
> this was. so hard to write so i really hope you like it and think it makes sense. i hope to turn this into a series so if there's something you wish had been addressed more...... hopefully it will be in the future lol

 

 

 

 

 

Hermann visits Newt as soon as they’ll let him.

 

_ Let _ isn’t exactly the right word for it, and neither is  _ they _ , truth be told. It’s been a few hours since the apocalypse was canceled again, and no one is really in charge of the PPDC anymore, are they - in fact, Hermann might be the most senior person left. It was mainly children even before Marshal Quan and most of the pilots died, and now it’s Hermann, Nate Lambert and the Pentecost boy, a handful of teenagers, and a few others here and there, as well as Liwen Shao, who doesn’t actually work with them. Pentecost had locked up Newt, unconscious and bleeding, and is waiting for him to wake up when Hermann finds him.

 

“He’s not awake yet,” Pentecost says, not taking his eyes away from the monitor where Hermann can clearly see for himself Newt's head resting at an awkward angle against his shoulder.

 

“He’s - they’re faking it,” Hermann replies, overly sharp after his slip-up. “His body would be facing serious medical consequences by now if it was still unconscious from a single punch, and besides, look at the tension in his shoulders - ”

 

“Alright, alright,” Pentecost interrupts, looking at Hermann out of the corner of his eye, evaluating. “I’ll go in and talk to him then.”

 

“ _ I _ will go in and talk to him - them,” Hermann says, taking a step closer, letting his cane come to a rest uncomfortably close to Pentecost’s nearest foot.

 

“Yeah, I don’t think so. We need to lay down the rules here, let them know we’re going to take them down.”

 

“We also need to let Newt know that we’re going to break him free.”

 

Pentecost finally turns away from the monitor, moving carefully past Hermann’s cane to lean against the desk, crossing his arms. He stares at Hermann for a long moment before he speaks again.

 

“You know that’s not the priority, man,” he says, raising a hand as Hermann opens his mouth. “I know he’s your friend and you want to help him, and we’re going to try to do that, but rescuing Geiszler and  _ comforting _ whatever part of him might still be left in there can’t be our focus. The world is at stake.”

 

Hermann’s knuckles turn white on his cane and he clenches his jaw, glancing at the monitor. Newt's head still rests against his shoulder. Whenever Newt falls - fell asleep sitting up, his head always drifted backward, his mouth wide open and emitting a whistling snore.

 

“I know what is at stake,” Hermann says, quiet and steely. “And I know that Newt is still  _ in there _ and aware of what is happening and able to break free  _ when speaking to me _ . I must try - ”

 

“Okay,” Pentecost says, his expression calculating now. “You can go in later. I’m going to talk to those things first.”

 

Hermann allows himself to breathe a sigh of relief. It’s something he hasn’t gotten to do in quite some time, something he didn’t even do once the world was safe once more, because Newt - well. There’s time now, no ticking clock, time to figure out how to save Newt. Time to - to  _ see _ him, to get to look at him, even if the voice coming out of his mouth and the movements of his body are not his own. 

 

Hermann watches the monitor as Pentecost enters the room, as Newt's head lifts and his eyes open, something else staring out from behind them. There’s only visual, no audio, and Hermann finds himself grateful for that. He’s really only seen Newt at a distance for years, and it might be cowardly, but he’s suddenly grateful for a few more moments of the same, moments to prepare.

 

Before, when he had spoken to Newt briefly, to the creatures in control of Newt, there had still been some of Newt present there. Hermann is sure of it as he watches the screen. He recognizes nothing of Newt in his body’s posture right now, in his facial expression. Perhaps they’d needed just enough of him free to keep people from getting too suspicious. Perhaps his personality, his humanity is no longer of use to them.

 

Pentecost marches out of the room after just a minute or so, his posture reminding Hermann of the old marshal. His shoulders relax once the door shuts behind him, and he looks at Hermann carefully.

 

“Look,” he says. “You know there’s no microphones in there. And no one’s really in charge anymore. And you know Geiszler better than anyone. You should try what you think you should try. But you need to be honest about how it’s going and what you’re doing.”

 

Hermann nods slowly, raising his eyes to the door past Pentecost’s shoulder.

 

“I know that I can’t be objective in this situation,” he says, and it comes out much less reluctantly than expected. “It’s entirely personal. But I will tell you and whoever else becomes involved in this what is going on, and I will do my best to take what you say into consideration. Provided that it is reasonable.”

 

Pentecost makes a face that’s something between annoyed and amused, and Hermann closes his eyes, squeezes them shut for just a second. He doesn’t know when he’s going to see that same expression back on Newt's face.

 

“Did you still want to go in now?” Pentecost asks, uncertain.

 

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

 

Hermann adjusts his collar and the hem of his shirt and squares his shoulders as Pentecost enters the code and the doors slide open again. He walks into the room slowly, and as the doors shut behind him, Newt's head turns to look at him, a wide, wrong smile on his face. There’s blood all over him.

 

“We were wondering when you’d show up,” the precursors say, amused. “Newt’s not home right now! Oh, sorry.  _ Newton _ . That’s what you call him. You’re funny like that.”

 

Newt’s hands gesture while he talks, pointing at Hermann at an awkward angle, strapped down near his thighs. His head tilts as they study Hermann, and there’s something animalistic about it. It’s a disturbing combination of Newt's muscle memory and their instinct, or maybe it isn’t - a performance for Hermann specifically, one they hadn’t provided Pentecost with. Hermann wants to look away, but he also, of course, doesn’t want to.

 

“Newton  _ is _ in there,” Hermann says carefully, moving along the wall so that he’s directly across from Newt's body, a better angle for all of them. “He spoke to me last time we encountered one another, I’m sure you remember.”

 

“A fluke,” Newt's body says with a shrug. “A lot was going on, man, and he had been helping us pass. We’ve tucked him way deeper down now. Don’t get your hopes up too high for  _ that _ happening again.”

 

There’s no concern in Newt's voice or face, Hermann notes, but that doesn’t make it true. A lot  _ had _ been happening at the time, likely unprecedented for Newt and the creatures invading him, and surely they had no way to know if it would happen again. That being said, Newt had broken free and spoken to Hermann before Shao had even raised the gun. Hermann himself is some kind of trigger, and maybe the precursors don’t know that.

 

More likely, though, they do. Hermann has to be careful.

 

“I don’t know,” he says archly. “We’ve stopped your attempts to end our world twice now. I’m considering becoming an optimist.”

 

Newt's voice hums as his head tilts back, looking at Hermann from a different angle.

 

“You  _ have _ changed,” his voice says. “The times we’ve seen you don’t really line up with his memories of you. You became more like him and he became - he  _ became _ us. Does that make you feel any better? That he still exists in this world, in you, even if he doesn’t exist inside his own body anymore?”

 

The expression Newt's face is wearing is open, curious. Not malicious. They’re not sure how what they say will affect Hermann. Is it because he has changed that much?

 

It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s different. He has areas of expertise he’s never studied, an easier time talking to people paired with newfound but minor anxiety about what they think of him, significantly less impulse control than he used to. He’s become someone easier to be around.

 

That was only one of the reasons it troubled him so greatly that Newt didn’t seem to want to be around him anymore, not too long after they drifted. By all means, Hermann had become someone Newt specifically should want to be around much more than the old Hermann. Newt, though, changed too, became more closed off, more particular, less concerned with the people around him. Hermann had simply thought that those were Hermann’s own characteristics taking hold in Newt.

 

He can’t find it in himself to be relieved when this is the explanation.

 

“It does not make me feel better,” Hermann replies quietly. “And you’re not going to convince me that he’s gone.”

 

“Don’t confuse optimism with stupidity,” Newt's voice says as they point at Hermann again and raise an eyebrow.

 

“This is neither,” Hermann replies, heading for the doors. He punches in the code and turns to speak over his shoulder as they open. “It’s faith.”

 

-

 

Hermann sleeps exceptionally poorly that night, not that he expected otherwise. He’s still a pragmatist at heart. He knows, now, that his nightmares must be in large part the result of his initial drift with Newt and the kaiju brain, plus Newt's subsequent… situation. Some, though, are surely natural lingering turmoil, and he has new material now for those. The tilt of Newt's head, his hands around Hermann’s throat. Fear that they won’t find Newt, that they will and they’ll kill him, that they won’t be able to save him -

 

Hermann lies half awake in his bed for a very long time, in between blurry dreams. It’s the first time he’s had to process the situation since becoming aware of it, and he finds himself missing being too busy saving the world to think about his feelings. He felt that way after the first war, after Newt pulled away, and here he is again, Newt making him prefer the apocalypse to his personal life.

 

He doesn’t want to think about how he’d thought, after they drifted, after they saved the world, that they were going to be together. That he’d thought what he saw in Newt's head meant they felt the same way for each other. That he’d thought that Newt pulling away meant he was wrong.

 

He doesn’t want to think about how Newt pulled away because he was made to, and whether that might mean Hermann had been right in the first place.

 

He also doesn’t particularly want to acknowledge how pathetic it is that after ten years of being treated horribly and distantly, his feelings never truly went away no matter how much he pretended they had. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the hope burning hot in his chest.

 

He certainly doesn’t want to consider the fact that, at the end of the day, Newt has been living with a woman named Alice for some time now, and even if Newt  _ had _ had feelings for him, he’s with someone else. Someone who doesn’t know what’s happening now, and that’s something Hermann will probably have to handle at some point. Of course it will come down to him.

 

Early, much too early, he gives up and gets out of bed. He makes himself take his time showering and dressing. He heads into the kitchen to make himself a simple breakfast, rather than wait for the cafeteria to open, but when he gets there he pauses.

 

Had Pentecost or someone else fed Newt the night before, after Hermann left? Had they left his exhausted body to sleep in that chair? Hermann needs to come up with a sustainable plan for caring for Newt's possessed body immediately.

 

Pentecost is surely still asleep, so Hermann makes himself eat after all, pulling a small notebook out of one of his pockets and starting a list. Does Newt wear contacts now, and does Hermann need to obtain more? Eyedrops? Is he taking any medication? Unlikely. The list is long by the time he’s finished, and he underlines a few points to prioritize. He makes himself leave the kitchen without grabbing any food for Newt first.

 

The hallways are quiet as Hermann makes his way to the converted cell where they’re keeping Newt, not just because of the hour but also because of their decreased numbers. No one is waiting outside when Hermann gets there, and Newt's body seems to be staring blankly at the wall in front of it. It’s difficult to tell from the angle of the camera, but there seems to be something sitting on the floor near Newt's foot. A bottle?

 

It is a bottle, Hermann discovers when the doors slide open. A plastic one, a premade breakfast shake or something of the sort, a straw sticking out of the opening.

 

“That’s not much use to you down there, is it,” Hermann says, but he makes no move toward it as Newt’s head slowly turns, his eyes focusing one they reach him.

 

The blood has dried on his face. The corner of his lip splits open again when the precursors open his mouth.

 

“He kept holding it just out of reach while talking at me,” Newt's voice says, a little raspy. “I decided to wait for someone who actually cares if I live.”

 

First person now, Hermann notes, but it’s not Newt breaking through. A tactic, perhaps, to get Hermann to let down his guard. To help them. As though he wouldn’t do his best to keep Newt alive anyway.

 

Maybe they don’t know the extent of Hermann’s feelings, then. Maybe they don’t know the extent of Newt's, either, whatever it may be. If they do know, and if Newt felt the way he thinks Newt felt - for a moment, Hermann lets himself wonder if they brought Alice into Newt’s life in order to keep Hermann out of it.

 

He shakes his head. Clears it.

 

“Were you given any water?” Hermann asks.

 

He moves forward slowly but calmly, bends down to pick up the drink, and holds it out so Newt's body can easily drink from it. His mouth smiles around the straw, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and Hermann waits for them to finish.

 

“No water yet,” they say, sounding better. “Figured you’d take care of that at some point. Speaking of, what’s a guy gotta do to get a bathroom break around here?”

 

Hermann lets an expression of distaste cross his face as he steps away with the empty bottle, settling against the wall directly across from Newt's body again, leaning his shoulders there.

 

“I suppose we’ll deal with that when it comes to pass,” Hermann says. “Handcuffs and guards, I would assume.”

 

“Come on,” they laugh. “We haven’t stuck with this body for its physical power.”

 

“Because you had so many choices,” Hermann snaps before he can stop himself.

 

“Well,” Newt's voice says, lilting, his head tipping to the side. “We did have one other choice.”

 

Hermann’s breath catches. It’s not something he’s let himself think about yet either, that it could have been him. The reasons why it wasn’t. Whether Newt would have figured it out sooner, if it had been.

 

They laugh Newt's laugh as Hermann leaves.

 

-

 

He goes to his office. He sits down at his desk, puts on his glasses, and, on autopilot, pulls up his work email. There are more unread messages than he expects, considering most of the Shatterdome has died and there’s nothing to really  _ do _ outside of everything there is to do regarding Newt.

 

The emails, it turns out, are from the offices of various world leaders and members of the UN tasked with communicating with the PPDC, wondering who is in charge now, confirming who is alive and who is not, demanding to know what actually happened. They have received no responses yet.

 

This, Hermann supposes, is what there is to do aside from everything to do with Newt; it’s hard for him to remember that there is anything else.

 

He hits the reply button at the end of a long chain of questions and positions his fingers over the keyboard.

 

Hermann is probably the most senior person left alive. Hermann knows what he is doing, and he is efficient and widely knowledgeable and the right mixture of practical and intuitive, these days. Hermann should almost certainly be the one in charge now. 

 

There is a picture, among the clutter on Hermann’s desk, of him and Newt the first time they canceled the apocalypse together. Newt’s arm was around his shoulder. They were happy.

 

Hermann pulls his hands away from the keyboard and removes his glasses and rests his head in his hands.

 

He cannot be put in charge of the PPDC. He can’t focus, for one thing, can’t sleep, can’t promise to be good or smart or do what he should do. He can’t promise not to do what he shouldn’t either; he knows he will lie and abuse his resources and do whatever comes into his power in order to protect Newt. Part of him, of course, wants to say yes, to take hold of that power, but too much of him is always going to do what is necessary to save the world, to his own detriment. Noble, perhaps, foolish certainly, and a trait he is grateful for and resentful of in equal parts.

 

He presses his palms against his eyelids and breathes in a deep, shaky breath and tries not to think about what he might be willing to do if Newt can’t be saved, if the world has to come first. It is more comforting to think of the lengths he knows he will go to in order to keep it from coming to that.

 

Hermann pulls his hands away and stands up. Someone else can respond to these emails. Someone else can take over. He looks down at the photograph again, blurred from the pressure on his eyes. It could have been him that the precursors chose, rather than Newt. Or they were lying, and they only had access to Newt due to drifting with him twice. It doesn’t matter. They don’t have Hermann, and they can’t have Newt any longer. 

 

-

 

The following morning, Hermann arrives with eye drops that Newt’s body may or may not need. Nate Lambert and Pentecost stand side by side in front of the monitor and both turn to him as he approaches.

 

“Gottlieb,” says Lambert. “Good timing.”

 

“Oh?” Hermann asks, but he plows on: “Have you fed him? Actually fed him?”

 

“Yeah,” Pentecost says, “listen - ”

 

“Has he slept yet? Has he been brought to the loo?”

 

Lambert and Pentecost exchange a look as Hermann taps his cane on the floor impatiently.

 

“He hasn’t slept yet,” Lambert says. “We checked the footage to be sure. About the other thing though - we had a couple of big guys from security bring him to the bathroom a couple of times. And speaking of. Uh.”

 

“Listen,” Pentecost says. “We don’t know how long we’re gonna have him in there, and he’s starting to reek - ”

 

“Ah,” Hermann says. “I will - supervise. If that’s what you are asking.”

 

“Supervise, sure,” Pentecost says, not really making eye contact, as Lambert clears his throat.

 

Hermann can’t be bothered with their mild discomfort, nor with the whisper of Newt’s anxiety that runs through him at what has the potential to be an embarrassing situation. He squares his shoulders and looks at Pentecost squarely.

 

“Where - ”

 

“Your shower, if you don’t mind,” Pentecost says. “Not really an occasion for the communal showers. We’ve got sweatpants and a t-shirt for you to put him in after.”

 

“Right,” Hermann says.

 

He’s used to others assuming he and Newt have this level of responsibility over one another, but Pentecost barely knows either of them, and it still rankles, how they’ve always been shoved off into a corner together. He can admit, though, that it’s generally a correct assumption, and that he’s grateful to have responsibility now, when it really matters, without having to fight for it.

 

On the whole, though, he does not look forward to bathing Newt's possessed body.

 

They’re quiet as Hermann and a couple of large men Hermann recognizes from around the Shatterdome base walk them to Hermann’s room. Once the door is shut, one of the men reaches out and uncuffs one of Newt's handcuffs. His wrists underneath are red and irritated from these and the ones attached to the chair. The guard keeps ahold of Newt's shoulder, and the precursors laugh as they begin to unbutton the waistcoat. Hermann is torn between looking away and keeping a close, protective watch on what they do with Newt's body.

 

Once his waistcoat and shirt are gone, he’s handcuffed again, and the security guard gestures toward the shower.

 

“Oh, you’re only here for part of the show,” Newt's voice says, amused, and the precursors begin unbuckling his belt as they head in.

 

Both of the security guards look to Hermann, presumably waiting for him to follow, so he does. He closes the door most of the way behind him. When he turns away from the door, Newt's nude body is standing in the shower, the water still off and the curtain open, but facing away from him.

 

“Wow,” they say conversationally, “what a weird way for you to see me naked for the first time.”

 

“You haven’t done a good job of reading Newton's memories if you think I’ve never seen his bare ass before,” Hermann replies, resigned. “Though those were also odd circumstances. Each time.”

 

They laugh, and Hermann gets impatient and leans past them to turn on the water, carefully not looking at them. He can still sense them flinch when the water touches them, too cold. They watch him from directly under the spray as it warms up, as he moves away, droplets clinging to Newt's eyelashes. Neither of them moves to close the curtain even though water is beginning to puddle on the floor.

 

“Are you wearing contacts?” Hermann makes himself ask as they reach for the shampoo.

 

He has the eye drops in his pocket still. Newt’s eyes don’t appear to be red or irritated, but he’s also not squinting as though they’ve foregone visual aid entirely.

 

“Nah,” they say, “got lasik. Humans are so weird about not utilizing the tech they have access to, man.”

 

“Ah,” Hermann says quietly.

 

Newt’s face, angled toward the spray, looks so different without his glasses. Less rounded, more mature. Hermann imagines one of the first things they will do once Newt is free is to buy him a pair of fashion lenses, the kind Newt has mocked people for wearing on more than one occasion. If he refuses, Hermann might buy a pair for him.

 

The precursors are fairly capable of bathing their host’s body despite the handcuffs, though there is a little difficulty with hair washing. Hermann curls his fingers into fists and remains by the sink until they turn the water off and turn to him expectantly.

 

“Towel?” they ask.

 

Hermann grabs one, and as he moves closer he sees that they failed to clean up the blood around Newt's nose or the cut on his cheekbone. Before he can stop himself, he reaches out and wipes his thumb under Newt's nose, cleaning away the blood there. Newt's eyes slowly slide shut and his shoulders relax for a moment, and Hermann’s breath catches, but then they open Newt's eyes and his face slides back into the blank mask they wear when they’re not talking, when they’re not pretending. He presses the towel against Newt's chest until they take it.

 

Once Newt's body is dried off and his lower half is clothed, Hermann holds out a hand to stop them from leaving. He pulls a first aid kit out of a cabinet.

 

“Really?” they ask, but Hermann ignores them as he cleans the cuts on Newt’s cheek and the corner of his mouth. “You know you’re just doing this to make yourself feel better, right?”

 

He does. He does it anyway.

 

Newt's eyes flutter shut again as Hermann’s fingers brush his cheekbone. This time Hermann doesn’t react, and the moment of freedom lasts until he places a bandage over the cut on Newt’s cheek and steps away.

 

-

 

He decides to walk Newt’s body back to his cell along with the guards. Newt is quiet, but it’s an eerie, observational quiet that Hermann doesn’t like. He’s wearing a t-shirt and too-long sweatpants and socks now, all in shades of gray. It is preferable to the suits, but not significantly. Walking behind, Hermann can see his head turning slightly as they take in their surroundings. He resists the urge to whack the back of Newt’s legs with his cane.

 

Pentecost is waiting outside of the cell when they arrive. He opens the door and leads the way inside. Hermann chooses to remain outside, watching through the open doorway as Newt is easily strapped back into the chair. The guards filter out, and Newt’s head turns unnaturally to gaze up at Pentecost.

 

“We’re all clean now,” they say. “Do we get a prize for behaving ourselves and taking a bath like a good boy? A gold star?”

 

“Keep on acting like you’re only here because you want to be,” Pentecost says. “That’s fine.”

 

“You have no idea what we’re capable of,” they say, Newt’s body lurching forward against the restrains, his voice deepening, amplified. “You have no IDEA - ”

 

Pentecost shrugs and turns away, walking out of the cell as they continue to yell. Hermann can see blood beginning to drip from Newt’s nose again as the doors shut. Handkerchiefs. He needs to start carrying extra handkerchiefs. He’ll add that to the list.

 

“He good?” Pentecost asks conversationally.

 

“His body seems healthy, if that’s what you mean, other than the continued nosebleeds when they get aggressive, as you just saw,” Hermann replies. “I’m not overly concerned about the lack of sleep yet, but we may have to try a sedative eventually if it continues.”

 

“He hasn’t gotten aggressive like that with you, has he?”

 

“No,” Hermann replies, “and I don’t know how much of that is an attempt to make me relax around them and how much - ”

 

He pauses and looks away from Pentecost, back toward the closed doors.

 

“How much could be his influence,” Pentecost finishes. “Has he broken through at all?”

 

Hermann tightens his hand around the head of his cane.

 

“I’m not sure,” he says. “If he did, it was just barely. Minor reactions they might not have bothered to suppress or might not have noticed.”

 

Pentecost hums.

 

“What were you saying when it happened?” he asks.

 

“I wasn’t,” Hermann says. “I wasn’t saying anything. I was touching him.”

 

Pentecost hums again, a softer sound that makes Hermann feel uncomfortable and exposed. He doesn’t look away from the doors.

 

“I think you should try that again,” Pentecost says after a moment. “If you feel up to it. See if you can get a stronger reaction out of him and whether or not they notice. Figure out why they do once they do.”

 

Hermann nods.

 

“They don’t seem to have a full grasp of Newt’s memories,” he says. “They made an inaccurate assumption earlier. I’m not sure if they’re not bothering to access all of his memories or if they’re unable to.”

 

“Interpersonal stuff trips them up,” Pentecost considers. “I think it’s important to know if it’s not a priority or if it’s a weak point. You should try to get personal. Talk to him directly and see what they do.”

 

Hermann finally looks right at Pentecost and frowns.

 

“That seems unwise,” he says. “If their information about him is limited, if their information about  _ me _ is limited, talking in front of them is giving them a reason to investigate further.”

 

“They’ve already been in both of your heads,” Pentecost says. “They live in his. They already think of you as both a threat and a potential tool, no matter what they do or don’t know.”

 

Hermann shifts his weight. Pentecost isn’t wrong, but if the precursors really don’t have access to all of Newt’s memories, don’t know the full details of their relationship, it’s impossible to say how they would react once they did. He needs to figure out the best way to approach this.

 

“I need time,” he says.

 

“I get that,” Pentecost replies, “but I’m not in charge here and there’s other people we’re gonna have to answer to at some point. We’re getting calls from all these prime ministers and presidents and shit asking what’s going on and I don’t know what to tell them.”

 

“Not the truth,” Hermann says. “Not yet. How much longer do you think we have before they start arriving in person?”

 

“No one’s gonna fly yet,” Pentecost says. “They’ll wait to see if more kaiju are coming at first. Then they’ll start sending lackeys we can brush off. I say we’ve probably got a week ‘til anyone important shows up.”

 

“A week,” Hermann repeats. “Then I think I will likely take your advice and try to talk to him.”

 

“Good man,” Pentecost replies, clapping him on the shoulder.

 

-

 

Rather than head to his office, Hermann goes back to his room and sits down at his desk, putting on his glasses. Most of his time here has been spent in his office, in his work space, for a very long time; there was a point when he thought his life was about to shift away from that, at least in part. It didn’t, though, shifting instead in a very different direction, one that left him avoiding his impersonal, lonely room even more so than during the first war.

 

The little time he let himself spend in his personal space was the little time he let himself dwell. It is an unfortunately familiar routine to sit down in front of his personal computer and attempt to figure out who, exactly, Alice is. He has never succeeded, not when Newt first brought her up, not each time he managed to pry another detail about her out of Newt when they actually spoke, not now.

 

Sighing in frustration, he wipes away the useless search results and shuts the hologram down. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to contact the woman and let her know what’s happened to Newt, what’s been happening to him. He does know that it’s his responsibility to do so, though, his responsibility to clean up Newt’s messes whether they’re Newt’s fault or aren’t. Obligation is a better word, perhaps, for even in undesirable situations like this one, Hermann still wants it to fall to him.

 

It’s not as though he ever faced significant competition, except for Alice, for being that person in Newt’s life, and therefore there’s no one else for Hermann to ask about Alice.

 

Well, Pentecost did tell him to get personal. And the precursors already know about her. Perhaps it’s a good way to try to get to Newt without feeding them anything they don’t already know.

 

Rather than head straight back to Newt, he makes himself stop by the cafeteria for lunch first. It’s fairly empty, except for a table where the teenage jaeger pilots are sitting practically on top of one another and yelling over a card game. Hermann doesn’t expect to be disturbed as he eats, but after a few minutes, he notices someone come to a stop across from him.

 

“Cadet Namani,” he says, though truth be told he’s not sure if she was officially reinstated after being kicked out, or if anyone left has the power to authorize that decision.

 

“Dr. Gottlieb,” she replies, sitting down on the bench in front of him and folding her hands on the table. “Okay, so - Jake’s been busy and he hasn’t really been able to answer our questions? And Ranger Lambert won’t tell us anything. So I’m hoping you will.”

 

She schools her face into something approaching serious as she stares across the table at Hermann. He waits, but so does she.

 

“What is it that you’re asking?” he says finally, and she blushes very slightly, but her expression holds.

 

“What’s going on with Dr. Geiszler?” she asks. “I know he worked for Dr. Shao and he’s possessed and he worked with you to stop the kaiju before, and some of the other cadets know a little more about his research and whatever, but we don’t know what’s happening now. Or what you’re trying to do. Or if there’s anything we can do to help. We want to help.”

 

Hermann smiles at her just slightly. She’s earnest. A troublemaker, surely, for all that spirit. No wonder she and Pentecost get along.

 

“First things first,” Hermann says, “he would prefer that you call him Newt. He’ll tell you as much once we get him free.”

 

Namani’s eyebrows go up briefly, but she schools her expression again, leaning forward a little as she listens. She doesn’t need to know right now about the uncertainty of all that they’re dealing with - none of the cadets do. They’re children, still, though they’ve saved the world.

 

“We are trying to figure out what the precursors want and we are trying to figure out how to save Newt,” he says. “Right now, your job is to recover and to be ready if and when we need you. Waiting is no fun, but it also means nothing bad is happening right now. Hm?”

 

He points his fork at Namani and raises his eyebrows, and she smiles crookedly.

 

“Okay,” she says. “Right.”

 

She stands up, but before she goes she turns back to him.

 

“I hope you figure it out soon,” she says. “I know you were friends.”

 

“Yes,” Hermann says, nodding. “Thank you.”

 

Namani nods back, and then she returns to the other cadets. As she sits back down, the others lean toward her, and half of them turn conspicuously to look at him, which he ignores.

 

He’s grown used to actually being respected in his role, between his contributions to saving the world the last time around and developing a more outward personality, and he’s grown used to his seniority, but it’s still odd to deal with the very young ones. He thinks he’s gotten quite good at it, though. He thinks the look on Newt’s face, to see Hermann dealing successfully with the teens, would be something. Will be something.

 

-

 

It’s Lambert outside the cell, watching the monitor, when Hermann heads back.

 

“Hey, doctor,” Lambert says. “I just fed him. He was pretty quiet. I think maybe he’s getting tired. I’ve got that sedative ready in case he doesn’t pass out on his own and you think we should give that a try, though.”

 

“I see,” Hermann says. “Did Ranger Pentecost inform you of our plan?”

 

“Yeah,” Lambert says, straightening up from where he leans against the wall. “You ready to try it?”

 

“I believe I am,” Hermann says, and he heads inside.

 

It’s somewhat startling to see Newt in the chair with his hair clean and dried fluffy and uneven, blood cleared from his face and a bandage on his cheek, in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He does look drowsy in a way he hadn’t that morning. He looks vulnerable. Hermann wishes horribly that they had left him as he was.

 

“I have a question for you,” Hermann says.

 

He comes to a stop in front of Newt’s body, closer than he has been standing to him, resting one hand on top of the other on the head of his cane. Newt’s eyes blink sleepily up at him. Hermann doesn’t think they’re faking that. He’s known Newt to stay awake for a long time, though usually with the assistance of substances rather than an alien hivemind, and he knows a crash when he sees it.

 

“What is it?” Newt’s voice asks.

 

“How can I contact Alice?” Hermann asks, not allowing himself to hesitate. “I’d like to let her know what’s happening here.”

 

They blink up at him for a long moment, and then they start to laugh. Newt’s body slumps forward in the chair with the force of it, undoubtedly chafing his wrists. When they lean back, wheezing, there are tears at the corners of his eyes.

 

“Oh man,” they say. “You haven’t figured that part out yet? Okay, okay, I’ll spell it out for you. Alice isn’t a person, dude. That’s just a nickname for the old girl in the tank. The brain, you know.”

 

Hermann involuntarily takes a step back and has to steady himself quickly with his cane.

 

“Oh,” he says. “That is… unexpected.”

 

“Are you…” Newt’s eyes squint up at him. “Are you partly relieved that my girlfriend is aliens?”

 

Hermann jerks back to attention, takes a sharp step forward and glares down at them. He’s nearly speechless, still, can’t process exactly what he’s feeling, but he knows some of it  _ is _ relief, and he knows it probably shouldn’t be.

 

Newt’s eyes are darting back and forth quickly as they look up at him, still a little foggy, though Hermann can’t imagine what it is that they don’t have figured out. In fact, he can’t imagine that they need to ask that question in the first place.

 

“Don’t you know what’s going on in Newton’s head?” he snaps. “After all, you live there.”

 

They hum noncommittally and shrug. 

 

“Kind of, yeah,” they say. “Of course. But human emotions are a little tricky for us, even after all this time. Maybe they wouldn’t be if we’d picked a human who’s a little more, uh… stable? But alas.”

 

Newt’s head dips to the side a little as they look up at him. They’re sleepy, and they don’t have a full grasp on what’s in Newt’s head, let alone what’s going on in Hermann’s. Perhaps they don’t know more about what Newt feels for Hermann than Hermann does. Giving the precursors more information about the emotional nature of their relationship might be an unwise move. But it also might overwhelm them. It might be enough to set Newt free.

 

“You know,” Hermann says as he begins to pace, “Alice was the reason I didn’t realize something was off with you for so long. I stayed away because I was - I was jealous, and because I was hurt, because I thought after we drifted that - that it was going to be the start of something new for us.”

 

Newt’s eyes track Hermann. His head tilts back against the headrest, but his expression doesn’t change. Hermann takes a deep breath and makes himself continue.

 

“But you pulled away and then you were with Alice. So I stayed away. If I hadn’t, I would have known something was wrong. Did you do that on purpose? To keep me away from him?”

 

He makes himself come to a stop and wait for the answer. They lick Newt’s lips and stretch his neck and clench his hands.

 

“No,” they say, laughing a little. “We didn’t understand what he was feeling enough to know to do that. In fact, we wanted to meet you, since you also drifted with us. You know, we wanted to figure out how we could use you to our advantage too. But uh - ”

 

They let out an uncomfortable hiss and stretch oddly again.

 

“We would have kept you away on purpose if we knew how strongly he’d react to you,” they say, voice tight.

 

Hermann narrows his eyes. There is no blood dripping from Newt’s nose, not yet, but that doesn’t mean he’s not about to surface. He takes another two steps forward and brushes his fingertips against the hair at Newt’s temple, lets his fingers linger there as he speaks.

 

“Why make up a girlfriend if not to keep me away?” he asks.

 

Newt’s eye close and his head slumps toward Hermann’s hand. Hermann cards his fingers fully into his hair, and Newt shudders, and blood begins to drip from his nose. Quietly, through clenched teeth, Newt speaks, really speaks.

 

“It was me who did it to keep you away, not them,” he says, breathing harshly, trembling under Hermann’s fingers. “They’d go after you if you were suspicious of how I was acting. Or if they figured out how I felt.”

 

Hermann strokes his thumb along Newt’s eyebrow.

 

“How you felt,” he repeats quietly, awed, unable to make himself say anything useful.

 

“I was too scared to say anything,” Newt gasps. “And then they were there and everything they promised seemed - easier.”

 

It takes Hermann a moment to track what Newt is saying. But he’s seen what the precursors brought into Newt’s life - shiny toys and endless access to kaiju experimentation; an appearance and demeanor to make people like him, at least from a distance; the respect and means to do whatever he wants. Not all things Newt would necessarily have desired on paper, but a rockstar lifestyle that spoke to him, certainly. 

 

That was the path they offered him after the drift. That was what Newt chose over whatever he felt for Hermann.

 

No, Hermann knows that isn’t fair. Newt was always one for impulse decisions or procrastination; instant gratification or stagnation. A path that seemed to give him plenty that he wanted without him having to take action might seem a sensible choice over one that required an action Hermann himself had also been too afraid to make. Their path was fraught with uncertainty, with twin nightmares, with being in one another’s heads but still unsure if their feelings were matched. Hermann can’t blame him for that.

 

“I was scared, too,” Hermann says. “I still am.”

 

Newt opens up his eyes and looks up at Hermann, really looks at him, his eyes wet, and he opens his mouth to speak again, but then his face twists with pain and his eyes squeeze shut. Blood begins to run from his nostril in earnest as he leans forward and lets out a shout. Hermann grabs the side of his face and leans forward.

 

“Newton?” he calls. “Can you hear me?”

 

Lambert is at his side, suddenly, even though Hermann hadn’t heard the doors open. He holds out the needle containing the sedative. After a moment of hesitation, Hermann takes it and administers it. Newt’s thrashing calms after a few moments, and as his head grows heavy against Hermann’s hand, he tucks it back against the headrest. He removes the handkerchief from his pocket and does his best to wipe away the blood with a trembling hand.

 

He does not want to leave. He makes himself follow Lambert back out into the hallway.

 

“He spoke to me,” Hermann manages to say eventually. “Directly to me. Before that happened.”

 

“What did you learn?” Lambert asks, professional but not unsympathetic.

 

The way that Newt thinks of the precursors entering his head, offering him things, things that he wanted, things that were easy for him to accept - it sounds like he didn’t try to fight them off in those early days. It sounds like there may have been a chance for him to, that he may have opened himself up to them, and if that is true, then it might be possible for Newt to do the opposite now - to cast them out.

 

But Hermann talking directly to him, getting him to break through, prompted a dangerous reaction. A physical toll to fighting against the precursors. How is Hermann to communicate with Newt, how is Newt to break free, without putting him at great risk?

 

“I need to think,” Hermann says, and this time he leaves before he can be convinced otherwise.

 

-

 

Dr. Shao has been working nearly nonstop to fix the mess Newt made behind her back. Much of it is happening back at her headquarters while she supervises from afar, but she’s slept very little in the last few days, doing a significant amount of the reprogramming herself. Newt might be chained up, but it’s still a risk not to destroy the jaegers already infiltrated with kaiju biomatter, and there’s not much left to use to defend against further outside attacks.

 

When Hermann finds her, set up in the office of a commander who didn’t make it, her hair is pulled back sloppily and there are streaks of grease across her cheeks. There are holograms spread out all around her and she doesn’t notice him through them until he knocks on the doorframe. 

 

“Dr. Gottlieb,” she says.

 

He recognizes the look on her face - she’d forgotten the world outside her lab existed, despite the fact that that’s who her work is for. She shifts a few holograms out of the way and gestures for him to sit across from her, and he complies.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her tone not impolite, but Hermann knows she means that he best have a good reason for interrupting.

 

“Dr. Shao,” he says. “I spoke with Newt. Actually spoke with him briefly.”

 

She waits, her expression unchanging. Hermann is glad that she has a priority greater than breaking Newt’s bond with the precursors, because she’s understandably angry about his deception and Hermann is quite certain she would not take Newt’s best interests into consideration, or allow Hermann to do so. Her insight, though, is valuable, and Hermann’s not sure who else he could work out his thoughts with.

 

“Something he said implied that he might have had some element of choice in going along with the precursors in the first place,” Hermann says. “Maybe he’s just blaming himself out of guilt, or they’re causing him to think that this is true.”

 

“But if he did in some way permit it to happen, he might have the ability to put an end to it,” Dr. Shao says after a moment’s pause.

 

“ _ Exactly _ ,” Hermann says, leaning forward in his seat. “His openness to what they could offer him at the start, and his curiosity about the experience - even if he came to disagree with what they were doing - I think it made him drift compatible with them. Not in the exact same way we generally use the term, of course, but - his belief that he needed them, that he needs them, could be what keeps the neural handshake open and strong.”

 

“So what you need to do is render them no longer drift compatible,” Dr. Shao says, as though it’s perfectly simple. “Show him that he doesn’t need them.”

 

Newt said he was afraid, that the path he took seemed easier than being with Hermann. He needs to be shown that being together would easier than anything, easier than any alternative. That it wouldn’t require some kind of brave action. That all Newt would have to do is just be.

 

“Yes, that’s it,” Hermann says, but then he falters, slumping back into his seat. “But when I spoke with Newt just now, really openly spoke with him, when he broke free and was able to speak with me, he didn’t just get a nosebleed, he began to seize.”

 

“Do you think that was a result of the strain of fighting to break free?” Dr. Shao asks. “Or perhaps they did it on purpose to make him stop talking.”

 

Hermann rubs a hand over his eyes.

 

“You think - you think they would risk losing their host?” he asks, but he knows she could be right.

 

“Was he saying something that they wouldn’t want him to say?”

 

“Yes,” Hermann replies after a second, “yes, I certainly learned some important information from what he was able to say, though some of it was… personal in nature. Not relevant to them.”

 

Dr. Shao crosses her arms against the desk and leans forward. Hermann is not usually unsettled when others focus on him because he’s used to them misunderstanding, but Shao’s focus is unsettling because she’s frighteningly perceptive; he’s not sure how much of that is general and how much of that is a talent at reading him in particular. 

 

“I rather think it is in their best interests to prevent personal conversation,” she says, raising her eyebrows. 

 

“It suppose so,” Hermann says. “But if I’m not able to safely speak with him - ”

 

He pauses and makes himself think through the thought again and again, consider the possibilities before he speaks it out loud.

 

“I think it would be most efficient to communicate directly with Newt by drifting with him.”

 

Dr. Shao tilts her head.

 

“You don’t think drifting with Dr. Geiszler and the hivemind in his head is a bad idea,” she says, her tone something between judgmental and interested.

 

Hermann has ten wistful years’ confidence in how easy things would have been between them. How they still could be. Even when they first drifted with the kaiju brain, even when he was scared to make the first move, he was certain enough that the precursors didn’t try to stick around and make any offers.

 

“If my theory is right,” Hermann says, his voice shaking as he pulls together a plan, “they have nothing to offer me. I’m not drift compatible with them and I never was. And I think I could - I could show him directly that he could break his connection with them as well. Without alerting them the way I would if I spoke to them directly. They have a hard time fully reading and understanding human memories, relationships, and emotions even from the inside. He wouldn’t be at the same degree of risk.”

 

“Well,” Dr. Shao says, “it’s the only plan anyone’s come up with so far. And I think you are most likely to come up with the plan that works, Dr. Gottlieb.”

 

“Ah,” Hermann says. “Thank you. Thank you for talking through this with me.”

 

“You’re welcome,” she replies, smiling tiredly. “Let me know if anyone needs convincing. I will back what you think is right.”

 

“I will,” Hermann says, resisting the urge to thank her again.

 

He leaves her to her work and goes to check if the practice Pons system is still intact. 

 

-

 

Since Newt has been sedated and hasn’t slept for some unknown amount of time, Hermann decides to wait until morning to approach Pentecost and Lambert. They express the same concerns as Dr. Shao, but it doesn’t take much for them to agree to give the plan a try.

 

“We’re on a time limit here,” Pentecost says, “and this is our only plan. So. What do you need?”

 

They get a couple of security guards to escort a handcuffed Newt again, and Hermann and the two rangers lead the way to the practice Pons system.

 

“Is anyone gonna tell me where we’re going? Hermann? No?” Newt’s voice asks.

 

They keep up a steady stream of mildly nervous chatter, but Hermann tunes it out easily. The first and only time Hermann drifted, it was with Newt and a kaiju brain, and it was wildly unstable. He got impressions of Newt’s memories and thoughts and feelings, as well as impressions of the kaiju. He got enough information to save the world. But the connection was brief and tumultuous and greatly upset his stomach. There was no stabilization of the neural handshake, no stability, no time spent conscious while attached at the mind. At least, there wasn’t for Hermann. 

 

He knows in theory, of course, what it’s like to drift properly. And he can’t say if that’s what he and Newt and the precursors will be doing this time around. But things will surely be more stable than they were the last time. Hermann is going to hang onto the handshake with all of his might in order to convey what he must to Newt, and if he’s lucky he won’t get sick afterward. 

 

He’s only made a habit of using aphorisms about the concept of luck since drifting with Newt. He’s concerned about what he might pick up this time. Ideally not his fondness for rambling even when no one is paying him any mind.

 

As they near the room containing the practice Pons system, Newt’s footsteps slow, and then there’s a scuffle. When Hermann turns around, the security guards have Newt by the upper arms. He kicks one of them in the shin before turning a manic look on Hermann.

 

“You gonna tell me your big plan now, Hermann?” he asks. “Think you’ve figured out how to rescue me?”

 

There’s panic in his voice, but also a note of confusion. They truly don’t know what his plan is.

 

“Bring him inside,” Hermann says.

 

There’s a chair set up under each of the headsets, as Hermann requested, the type they can handcuff Newt’s hands to. Once he’s strapped in, Hermann reaches for the headset and pulls until it’s low enough for Newt’s seated body.

 

“You can’t do it,” Newt’s voice says quietly, but there’s an edge creeping into it, a hint of amplification from the precursors. “You can’t fix him. You can’t STOP US.”

 

He launches himself upward in the chair, managing a few inches before the handcuffs stop him. Hermann sighs and places a hand over Newt’s face, gently shoving him back down into his seat. They thrash to the side as he grabs the headset again, but he manages to get it into place and moves over to the other, grabbing his headset before he sits. He rests his cane on the floor next to the chair.

 

“That didn’t alarm you at all?” Pentecost asks.

 

“Of course it did,” Hermann says, frowning as he puts on his own headset.

 

“I woulda punched him if he came at me like that,” Pentecost mutters, though he sounds impressed. “You ready to go?”

 

“I am,” Hermann says.

 

“Right. Initiating neural handshake.”

 

The initial shock of it is as cold as Hermann remembers, though he doesn’t know if that’s normal or a result of the otherworldly presence at play. Last time, he had felt a rush of human memories, his and Newt’s blurred together, before being overcome by wholly unfamiliar sensations he hadn’t fully been able to process until the connection broke. And it broke quickly - it was a wildly unstable drift, due at least in part to Hermann and the kaiju’s disconnect. 

 

It starts the same way this time. A sound bite of Hermann’s father berating him at a young age. The visceral sting of Newt falling off a bicycle. Blurry visuals from the first time Hermann drank himself sick. A loud buzz and an odd pain as Newt gets his first tattoo. Their first meeting from two simultaneous, contradictory angles.

 

Then Hermann feels the tug toward something other - many eyes, many voices, overwhelming - and it’s different from last time, because the kaiju were at the forefront last time, and this time it’s the precursors, more intelligent, in charge, and already drifting successfully with Newt. It’s not a chaotic glimpse into the mind of what is effectively an animal. They are many, but they are coherent. It takes longer to process their memories than human ones, but Hermann still sees through many eyes, kaleidoscopic, what their world looks like, what he looked like when Newt saw him for the first time after they took hold, what they felt when they failed to reach Mt. Fuji.

 

This is the part where the drift failed last time, just seconds in. But this time, the precursors’ memories and Newt’s memories blur together, multiple angles of the same events, the hivemind plus Newt, drifting compatibility. And now Hermann, with them. Maybe it’s because the precursors are ready to drift with a human brain this time; maybe it’s because Hermann prepared himself, or a combination of both. But the memories rush past, and then instead of failing, they stabilize.

 

Hermann is able to open his eyes, and he’s still connected to Newt and the hivemind.

 

“Neural handshake successful,” Pentecost says, disbelief in his voice.

 

Hermann turns to look at Newt, but he’s slumped forward in his chair and the helmet blocks his expression. His hands are gripped tightly around the arms of his chair. All Hermann can sense from him in that first moment is stress, emanating from both Newt himself and the hivemind, swirling around inside his head. Fear that Hermann will discern something from them, that he’ll anger the precursors and put himself at risk. Fear that they won’t understand whatever passes between Newt and Hermann.

 

He brings up the memory of what Newt had said to him when he broke through, that the precursors’ offer seemed easier. Rather than focus on a logical reaction, one the precursors might understand, he lets his emotional reaction to it wash over them all, including his hesitance about doing so. He feels a burst of shock from Newt at the wave of hope Hermann knows he emanates. Then he shifts part of his focus to his idea, the idea that Newt was open to the precursors at the start, that he has the power to render himself no longer drift compatible with them.

 

There is a wave of negativity so strong that Hermann is briefly certain that the precursors understood him perfectly after all - but he can feel the precursors turning their attention to Newt, who is furious. Denial, Hermann thinks before he can stop himself, and that only makes it worse. Newt is angry and confused and he doesn’t understand why Hermann is saying this to him, why Hermann is blaming him. 

 

_ I’m not _ , Hermann thinks desperately.  _ I just want to help you find any power you might have left _ .

 

The precursors are watching carefully now, not understanding but paying close attention, wondering why Newt is upset with Hermann now that they’ve actually connected, wondering at such an unexpected turn of events. Hermann can feel them prodding at him, trying to read him, and he can’t project his cool disinterest toward them at the same time as the longing he needs to project toward Newt -

 

The connection breaks, and Hermann gasps, slumping forward in his chair and catching himself at the last second. He pulls the helmet off roughly. He can hear Newt’s handcuffs rattle and he makes himself turn to look. Newt is looking back through the helmet, a thin stream of blood running all the way down his neck.

 

“Why - ” he starts, but Hermann reaches out and grabs his hand.

 

“Don’t,” he pleads.

 

He has to hope that Newt understands that the precursors have a better chance of understanding them out here, that Newt is in more danger out here. He has little choice but to hope that Newt understands all of it. 

 

Newt’s hand is curled into a fist under his, but as Hermann stares at him, willing him to understand, his hand goes limp, and his expression fades from angry to mild. Hermann releases him.

 

“Good work,” Newt’s voice says. “You tried to turn him against us and all you did was piss him off.”

 

They seem calm, confident even. They can’t have gathered too many details of what Hermann conveyed to Newt, then, but time spent with the memory of it floating in Newt’s brain might give it away.

 

“Bring him back,” Hermann says to Pentecost, but he doesn’t get up out of his chair.

 

He still feels a little wobbly, though he’s managed not to bleed this time. Lambert follows Newt and the security guards out of the room, but Pentecost stays behind.

 

“You look disappointed,” he says.

 

“There wasn’t time to fully explain myself,” Hermann replies. “He got defensive. He’s mad at me.”

 

He rests an elbow on the arm of the chair and brings his forehead to his palm, trying not to feel completely helpless.

 

“But you did communicate directly with him,” Pentecost says, “without the precursors understanding everything, and without putting him in as much danger. You were right about that.”   
  
“Yes,” Hermann allows.

 

“So you’re just going to have to do it again,” Pentecost says. “We don’t have time for you to do this a bunch of times and recover in between, but you can drift with him again. A bit more urgently next time, yeah?”

 

“Assuming he doesn’t completely resist next time.”

 

“He won’t,” Pentecost says. “You’re his drift partner, man. He’ll want to hear more. He doesn’t want the shitty explanation he’s got running through his head right now to be the final one. Would you?”

 

“No,” Hermann admits. “But we also have no idea how the precursors will react to my having angered him. They could resist much more.”

 

“They could. But I think they’re curious too. They want to figure you out and try to utilize you.”

 

“True,” Hermann says. “Yes, alright, I suppose it would probably benefit both of them more to drift with me again than to resist. And even if it wouldn’t, I still have to try again. I will try again.”

 

“That’s right,” Pentecost says, walking over to Hermann.

 

He leans down to pick up Hermann’s cane and holds it out to him.

 

“Thank you,” Hermann says, and when he finally stands, he’s steadier than he expected.

 

-

 

That afternoon, he decides to pay Newt another visit in his cell. He brings his first aid kit with him, tucked under his free arm. The bandage on Newt’s cheek could stand to be changed, and he’d like to take a look at the chafing that must be present on his wrists, if he can convince whoever’s keeping watch to unlock the cuffs. He also doubts anyone has bothered to clean up the blood.

 

Both Lambert and Namani are watching the monitor when he arrives. 

 

“Ranger,” Hermann says in greeting. “Cadet.”

 

Namani nods, her eyes going straight to the first aid kit. Lambert tilts his head.

 

“You sure whatever you’re about to try is a good idea?” he asks. “They’ve been quiet, but he was pissed.”

 

Hermann looks down at the first aid kit and doesn’t snap that he knows all of that already, that he doesn’t know if anything he’s tried or wants to try is a good idea.

 

“Yes, well, I’d like to test the waters,” Hermann says. “And if he won’t let me clean him up, I’ll have to insist someone else does it. I won’t have him getting an infection because he’s angry with me. Though it wouldn’t be the first time.”

 

He presses his lips together and makes himself stop talking. He knows there is an edge to his voice that Newt would call hysterical, were he able. 

 

“Okay,” Lambert says, subdued. “His wrists do look a little rough - you want me to come in there and assist?”

 

Part of Hermann would prefer the help of a security guard he doesn’t regularly interact with, but most of him knows that’s Newt’s anxiety talking rather than anything of his own, and so he nods and leads the way. 

 

“Bring one of those chairs,” he adds.

 

When the doors open, Newt’s head swivels to look at them, and a wide grin crosses his face.

 

“Oh, he doesn’t want to see  _ you _ ,” they say cheerily. “This’ll be fun.”

 

His hands are balled into fists. The anger might be strong enough that he’s able to break somewhat free; Hermann can only hope the precursors find it amusing enough not to harm him in response, if in fact they are doing it on purpose.

 

He steps up alongside the chair and hands the first aid kit to Lambert, who places the folding chair next to Newt’s chair and then opens it the first aid kit and holds it out.

 

“This again,” the precursors say, bored.

 

Hermann sits and then reaches up to peel back the bandage on Newt’s cheek, and Newt pulls back. Hermann knows the movement was really Newt because a startled, amused expression crosses Newt’s face; the precursors certainly hadn’t been expecting it. Hermann huffs out an annoyed breath and reaches for the bandage again, and this time there isn’t enough room for Newt to pull away. He removes the bandage in one sharp tug.

 

“Honestly, Newton,” he mutters, and he grabs the back of his neck to hold him in place as he cleans the wound.

 

It’s healing well, at least, Hermann notes, along with the tension in Newt’s neck under his hand. He isn’t pulling away anymore, but there’s a childish frown on his face and he’s breathing heavily through his nose. As Hermann lets go to apply a new bandage, the precursors start to laugh, his expression pulling oddly.

 

“Look at that,” they say.  “You try to take him from us and look at what you get. He doesn’t want us to go.”

 

They smile down at Hermann, smug, no concern, dried blood cracking around his mouth. He still can’t tell if they figured out what he actually told Newt. It’s possible that they know Newt has the option to break free and think he doesn’t want to. There is, of course, a chance that they’re right.

 

Hermann doesn’t think they are, though. He just has to show Newt that he’s not blaming him. He has to show Newt that he’s capable of breaking free and why he should try.

 

Being annoyed with Newt for being upset, in the meantime, is helping no one.

 

He sighs.

 

“You are, as usual, incorrect,” Hermann says. “That might sound like something I would normally say to Newton but I am in fact speaking to the precursors. You are wrong. I will take him from you and he will come willingly. Now I’m going to uncuff your wrists to bandage them and you’re not going to give me any trouble. Understand?”

 

On that last note, he’s speaking to both Newt and the precursors, but he doesn’t bother to specify, and they don’t bother to respond. The look on Newt’s face is considering, and he lets himself pretend that it’s Newt breaking safely through again. Lambert uncuffs one of Newt’s wrists, and there is no trouble given as Hermann sets to work, Newt’s skin warm and raw under his fingers.

 

They don’t fight. They let him handle Newt’s arms with care and they let Lambert cuff them back into place, though Newt’s hands continue to clench periodically throughout.

 

Hermann takes out supplies to clean the dried blood, but he pauses. If he’s going to speak, if there’s a risk he’ll trigger another bad reaction, he might as well do that before he bothers cleaning up.

 

“Newton,” he says, leaning forward but not touching him yet, “ _ please _ try to focus on what I meant to convey rather than how I conveyed it. Think about whether it could be true. Please. I  _ am _ sorry. Will you try?”

 

He reaches out and touches Newt’s nearest hand, not grabbing it, just touching his fingertips to the back of Newt’s hand. The hand twitches, rotates so that Hermann is touching his palm. Newt’s jaw is clenched and his eyes are shut and a thin stream of blood drips out of his nostril. Hermann is almost certain that all amounts to a yes.

 

He pulls out a handkerchief and brings it to Newt’s nose, putting his other hand on the back of Newt’s neck to tilt him forward gently.

 

“Alright,” he says, “I got your answer. Stop straining so I can clean you up, hm?”

 

Under his hands, Newt’s breathing eases and the bleeding stops, and as he cleans both fresh and old blood off of his face, Newt watches, subdued, though Hermann isn’t sure any longer if it’s him or the precursors.

 

When he and Lambert leave, Cadet Namani is outside the doors. She leans to the side so she can see into the cell before the doors close again. Lambert grabs her upper arm and gently pulls her back a few steps.

 

“Cadet, what did I tell you?” he asks. “This is none of your concern.”

 

“Sure it is,” she replies. “We just wanna know what’s going on. Have you made any progress?”

 

She turns to address her question to Hermann.

 

“Some, yes,” he says, nodding. “We are enacting a plan and have seen some results, if not especially desirable ones. But I believe that we will see more positive progress soon.”

 

“Great,” Namani says, smiling, before she turns a darker look on Lambert. “You couldn’t give me that kind of answer?”

 

“Stop taking cues from Jake about how to talk to me,” he says. “Go train or something.”

 

Namani huffs but complies. Lambert watches her go, waiting til she’s out of earshot before he turns back to Hermann.

 

“You really think the next drift will see better results?” he asks.

 

Hermann has a decent idea of what both Newt and the precursors are thinking right now. He has an idea of the timeframe he’ll have to convey his message. He just needs to figure out what the next message should be, what will get through to Newt right now.

 

“I do think so,” Hermann says.

 

“It’s going to have to,” Pentecost says, and Hermann and Lambert turn as Jake comes to a stop in front of them. “Remember how I said government lackeys were gonna start showing up soon? We’ve just had our first visitor.”

 

Hermann’s breath catches.

 

“I was able to get rid of him pretty easily,” Pentecost continues. “But he’s gonna come back and there’s gonna be more. How are you feeling, Gottlieb?”

 

“I feel fine,” Hermann says. “And Newt  _ seems _ to be fine as well, though I am concerned about what kind of prolonged effects there might be from the nosebleeds and the strain he is under.”

 

“You think he can drift again in the morning?”

 

“Yes,” Hermann says. “Since this is becoming more time-sensitive, I don’t think we should wait. The only real way to prevent further harm from coming to him is to get them out of his head. So. First thing in the morning, we will try again.”

 

-

 

Hermann tries to sleep. He does. He winds up instead curled up on his side, thinking about what will happen after. He is not, generally speaking, certain that they will succeed in freeing Newt, but he is determined to free Newt, and that is what he focuses on, now, with his eyes closed and one hand clasped tightly around the corner of his pillow. 

 

He knows he will unquestionably bring Newt back to his own room to rest once things are done with; he won’t let him go back to his apartment alone, or at all, if it can be helped. He’s not sure if things between them will start up right away or if they will wait until Newt has recovered more. That will depend on what kind of recovery he needs, what state he’s in. Hermann will follow his lead on that - he will be wherever and whatever Newt wants of him. If what Newt wants of him is not the same as what Hermann wants of Newt, well, he will deal with that when the time comes. He will survive it. But it’s not what he wants to think about now.

 

He can imagine the types of questions Newt will get asked once he’s able to answer. He’ll face interrogation by the remainder of the PPDC, by various government officials; he’ll be treated like a criminal unless they can somehow prove his innocence. And that is a problem Hermann should solve before they are in the middle of it. How can he prove that Newt was being controlled after it is safe to explain what had happened, once he is no longer being controlled?

 

Perhaps the physical toll on Newt’s body can tell the story on its own. If Hermann can run tests now and then after, there might be a significant difference in blood pressure and heart rate and brain activity. That combined with the footage of Newt in his cell and the testimonies of Hermann, Pentecost, and Lambert, as well as the promise of Newt’s cooperation in stopping the precursors - it’s not inconclusive proof, not at all, but more information is better than less.

 

The thought of a plan, any plan, brings him just enough peace of mind to be able to fall into an unrestful sleep. In the morning, he does not feel his best, but he feels better about his situation, if just a little.

 

Once he dresses and eats, he heads to his office. He knows he has a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff lying around somewhere - since drifting with Newt and then losing him as a lab partner, there are very few PPDC roles even tangentially related to STEM fields that Hermann has  _ not _ at some point taken on. As for brain scans, he’ll have to sedate Newt and bring him to medical to use the equipment generally used on pilots when something goes badly wrong during a drift. Hermann isn’t sure how many members of the medical team are left; if he has to figure out how to use the equipment himself, it shouldn’t be much of a hang-up.

 

It does take some time to find the necessary equipment. They haven’t been used in a while, and Hermann’s tidy days are, unfortunately, long gone. After he has them, he heads to Newt’s cell, hoping they haven’t already uncuffed Newt and brought him to the room with the practice Pons system. He finds Pentecost and Lambert waiting outside.

 

“I have an idea,” he says, holding out the stethoscope and the blood pressure cuff.

 

They acquiesce easily, far more so than the precursors likely will, and maybe even Newt himself. The brain scanning, they decide, can happen after the drift.

 

When Hermann enters the cell, he notices right away the five o’clock shadow on Newt’s cheeks. It’s still barely there, but it’s noticeable enough that Newt looks more like himself than he has in a very, very long time, even despite the unwelcoming expression the precursors have contorted his face into. Hermann has to steady himself before he approaches.

 

“Got another big idea?” they ask, eyeing the equipment in Hermann’s hand.

 

He thinks they sound nervous about it. Newt’s anger is not present the way it had been the night before, and Hermann chooses to take that as a positive sign.

 

As he wraps the blood pressure cuff around Newt’s arm, he’s not careful about letting his fingers stray to the soft skin on the inside of his elbow. He thinks that it is only when Newt attempts to break free that anything bad happens; he is fairly certain that just touching Newt is a comfort. Newt’s arm tenses, then relaxes, then tenses again quickly, and Hermann reminds himself that he wants the results to show that Newt is being controlled, and that comforting him won’t help that effort at all.

 

After he removes his hand, the precursors take over again fully, watching him closely but not saying anything. Hermann takes out the small notebook he keeps in his pocket to mark down the data; it will have to be official enough. Hermann reminds himself that, as close as he is to the situation, he is the most senior person left at the PPDC and he will be listened to. He has to talk to Dr. Shao, to see if he can bring her in on this plan. She has no personal stake in seeing Newt freed or recovered, and she’s well-known, and she played a significant part in saving the world this time; she might be believed more than him. 

 

The results of both tests are significant; Hermann doesn’t know Newt’s lifestyle of late, and he is older now, but Newt’s test results once he’s freed should appear drastically different from the current ones. Hopefully the brain scans will suggest the same results.

 

Once Hermann puts the notebook away, he allows himself to rest a hand on Newt’s shoulder for a moment. Newt’s head tilts slightly toward his arm, his expression blank.

 

The doors slide open and Hermann makes himself let go. He walks in front as they head to the practice Pons system so that he doesn’t have to watch the precursors struggle and wrench Newt’s body about. He still has to listen, though, as they yell at the guards, at Pentecost and Lambert, at Hermann.

 

“You good to go?” Pentecost asks as they watch Newt’s body get strapped into place and attached to the headset.

 

Hermann focuses on the stubble gracing Newt’s jawline.

 

“I am.”

 

He settles into the seat beside Newt’s and puts on his own headset. He closes his eyes. He has to do this right this time; he has to be strong, he has to be faster, he has to be louder than the precursors, and, more than anything, he has to be clear in what he means.

 

“Ready?” Pentecost asks, and Hermann nods, and the drift begins.

 

He doesn’t get caught up in the initial flood of sense memories this time; he doesn’t get sucked into distinguishing whose feelings he is feelings and he doesn’t get distracted by the inhuman sensations creeping down his spine and into his lungs. He stays focused and lets them pass him by until the neural handshake steadies.

 

The precursors aren’t happy that he’s there, of course, and they’re nervous but trying not to show it. Newt, too, is nervous, about what Hermann is going to accuse him of this time, about how the precursors are going to react and what that might to to him or to Hermann. Hermann does his best to project calm and surety. That is why he is here this time - to show Newt that he fully believes that he is capable of cutting off the precursors. To show Newt that he doesn’t care how he ended up in this situation, just that he gets out of it.

 

Newt is tentatively receptive, the drift growing stronger as he edges nearer to Hermann, willing to listen. The precursors, though, try to edge their way in, telling Newt not to trust Hermann; they can sense the positivity flowing between them and they are terrified. Newt bats them aside. He wants to hear what Hermann thinks.

 

_ You’re drift compatible with them _ , Hermann thinks,  _ but you can break the bond _ .  _ You can. _

 

A wave of doubt washes over him, and the precursors pounce on it. They tell Newt that he needs them, that he’s not strong enough on his own, not powerful enough. Hermann knows that Newt is insecure, but those don’t sound like Newt’s specific insecurities - they sound generic, easy lies beaten into Newt over the years.

 

_ You were never concerned with power _ , Hermann shouts.  _ You want to be smart and you want to be right but you don’t need what they’re offering. You don’t want their money or luxury or destruction, Newton _ .

 

Newt curls up, curls away from both Hermann and the precursors as they remind him that Hermann doesn’t know who he is anymore, maybe never did. It’s so outrageously false, so infuriating, that the neural handshake nearly collapses.

 

Hermann takes steadying breaths and quiets himself and lets the precursors keep on swirling around and between them, reminding Newt of everything wrong with Hermann, every reason they decided not to bother with him anymore, how frustrating he is, how boring, how he doesn’t understand their shared interests - it’s probably a mixture of fabrications and Newt’s actual thoughts. Hermann lets them swarm while he calms himself down, and then he reaches out to Newt again, gently.

 

_ They said you wouldn’t be able to break free at all and you keep doing it _ , he thinks, soft but certain.  _ They are wrong about you _ .

 

He feels something emanate from Newt, buried underneath the precursors, something small but bright and burning. He feels Newt reach out, and he reaches back, and then he feels a sharp pain between his eyes as the precursors scream.

 

Hermann and Newt yell in unison, which he can barely hear over the precursors rioting in his head, and then all noise cuts out at once as the handshake collapses. Hermann curses as he comes back to himself, smacks his hands against the arms of his chair. He can feel blood dripping down his face as he pulls off his headset. When Lambert pulls off Newt’s, there is blood on his face as well.

 

“How did it go?” Lambert asks carefully.

 

“Not so great,” the precursors says, baring their teeth at Hermann in a bloody, vicious smile.

 

Hermann grabs his cane off the floor and storms out. Pentecost follows.

 

“Hey,” he calls. “Hey, man, you gotta tell me what happened in there, come on.”

 

Hermann stops walking and allows Pentecost to catch up, wiping at his face with a handkerchief, then begins to pace across the hallway.

 

“I don’t know if we’re going to be able to drift successfully again,” he growls. “They don’t want me in there, they don’t want him to listen to me, it’s too tumultuous - and not only won’t it be stable enough, but it’s apparently just as dangerous as talking to him out here.”

 

“Were you able to communicate with him at all?”

 

“Somewhat,” Hermann says reluctantly. “I made some progress in conveying my theory but I don’t know if it was enough to convince him to  _ try _ . They’re certainly doing their best to convince him not to.”

 

“Mate,” Pentecost says after a pause, and Hermann startles slightly and stops pacing to look at him. “I think you might be better off just telling him outright, outside, to fight them.”

 

“I cannot do that,” Hermann says immediately. “I won’t. I don’t know what they’ll do to him.”

 

“That’s already a risk,” Pentecost says gently. “And it’s just as risky to tell him while drifting, isn’t it? He can’t break free from them if he doesn’t try. You said yourself that the only way to actually ensure his safety is to get them out.”

 

Hermann brings a hand to his forehead.

 

“Think about it, alright?” Pentecost says. “I’m gonna go bring him to medical and then put him under so you can run the rest of your tests.”

 

“Right,” Hermann huffs.

 

He doesn’t follow immediately as they march Newt’s body out of the room and down the hall; he gives them a head start so that his body will be under by the time he arrives. Unconscious, at least, they will be easier to be in a room with right now. 

 

The testing takes several hours, but Hermann sits and waits and watches throughout. Thankfully, he sees what he expected to see; there is a significant amount of irregular brain activity that would be inexplicable if he didn’t know what was happening to Newt. The results aren’t proof of what  _ is _ happening, but he has to hope that combined with the rest of his test results and the testimonies, it will be enough, and it’s certainly better than not having any test results to show.

 

He is concerned by the fact that he’s not able to tell if there is any damage from the seizing and bleeding, the strain from fighting against the precursors, or their presence in general. All he can tell is what they are doing now, how they are affecting chemical levels, how they are utilizing parts of the brain not normally used. Perhaps once they are gone he will be able to tell; perhaps he can’t tell because there is no permanent damage. He will have to hope for the best.

 

Newt should wake up soon, as they’d given him a smaller dose, and rather than let the guards head inside to unstrap Newt from the table, Hermann heads inside himself first. He doesn’t think anyone is inside the room that monitors this one but he also doesn’t particularly care. He brushes the back of his hand gently against the stubble along Newt’s jaw, then lets his fingers dip into Newt’s hair just above his ear. Newt twitches and turns toward his hand.

 

He clears his throat without opening his eyes.   
  
“I’m trying,” he rasps, very carefully, very quietly.

 

And that’s what’s important, isn’t it. Hermann is terrified of what might happen when Newt tries, but the fact that Newt believes him, believes in himself enough to try - that is what matters.

 

“ _ Good _ ,” Hermann says fiercely, his fingers sliding deeper into Newt’s hair to cup his head and turn it towards himself.

 

Before he can stop himself, he leans forward and presses his lips to Newt’s forehead. He lingers there for a moment, his nose pressed into Newt’s hair, until he feels Newt’s body tense. He pulls back just as they open his eyes.

 

“Foolish,” they say quietly, the same rasp still in Newt’s voice. “Your feelings deceive you. You think he’s capable of something impossible just because you want it to be true.”

 

Hermann stays close as he speaks, just as quietly.

 

“My  _ feelings _ exist because I know him in a way that you can’t. You don’t know what he wants and you don’t know what he’s capable of. I do.”

 

Newt’s eyes widen just slightly, and Hermann smiles.

 

-

 

It’s a bit late for lunch at this point but Hermann heads to the cafeteria regardless. On the way there he passes what has become the main entrance to the Shatterdome in the wake of all of the destruction. There is a crowd of a few young jaeger pilots and a few people Hermann recognizes from J-tech, including the woman everyone calls Jules, and a stranger in a suit.

 

“I don’t care who you say authorized the visit,” Jules says loudly.

 

The jaeger pilots are all talking over one another and Jules has an arm out to keep them back from the man who Hermann is realizing must be there to investigate on behalf of some government or another. He knows he should probably intervene, but frankly he’s hungry and tired and doesn’t feel up to fabricating a reason to keep the man out, and all he can think about is that there’s sure to be another visitor behind him, and another, and another, and they can only stall for so long.

 

Thankfully, Pentecost rounds a corner and spots what’s happening and jumps in, and Hermann is able to keep walking. He hears light, quick footsteps behind him and he turns to see Cadet Namani trailing him.

 

“Dr. Gottlieb,” she says, falling into step with Hermann as he enters the cafeteria. “Don’t worry, Jake will get rid of that guy.”

 

“I’m sure he will,” Hermann replies, struggling not to bristle at the placation, because it’s well-intentioned and earnest.

 

Namani follows him as he gets in line, and she grabs a water and an apple as he gathers up his meal. Suppressing a sigh, Hermann finds a table that will seat both of them. He rather likes Namani, actually, but he’s not particularly in the mood.

 

Namani sits down and takes a bite out of her apple and starts to speak with her mouth full.

 

“How are things going with Dr. - I mean, with Newt?” she asks.

 

“They are... progressing,” Hermann replies, and Namani makes a scrunchy face up at him.

 

“But not as fast as you want them to?” When Hermann doesn’t answer right away, she continues, “Jake said there was something new you were thinking about trying but you haven’t decided yet, and I don’t wanna be pushy or whatever, but I feel like you gotta try it now.”

 

Hermann wipes his mouth with his napkin, places it back on the table, and levels her with a look, his patience wearing thin.

 

“Yes, I am aware that things are getting desperate,” he says, dry.

 

Rather than annoyed, she looks faintly amused, but she tries to cover it up by taking another large bite.

 

“Why don’t you wanna try whatever the big idea is?” she asks, slightly muffled.

 

Hermann huffs out a long breath and rests his forehead in his hand. He knows now is the time to talk to Newt directly, to have him confront the precursors head on. He knows Newt is at risk anyway.

 

“I’m afraid,” he says. “It’s an extremely dangerous plan, but more than that, I’m afraid that it won’t work, and I don’t know what will happen if it doesn’t.”

 

Namani leans forward, across the table, and Hermann looks up so he can see her properly. Unbelievably, she smiles at him.

 

“You gotta do it anyway, Dr. Gottlieb,” she says. “It can’t work if you don’t try it. I know you know that. You’re, like, super smart. So I think it’ll work. Do you usually come up with bad plans that don’t work?”

 

“No,” Hermann says faintly, having a hard time processing that this child he barely knows is teasing him, coaxing him into believing in his own plan, and that it’s working.

 

“Okay, good, it’s settled then,” Namani says. “You’re gonna do your plan and it’s gonna work.”

 

“Just like that,” Hermann says, dry again.

 

“Just like that,” Namani repeats, smiling around a mouthful of apple. “Now go do it before anyone else bureaucrat-y shows up. Oh, wait, you should finish eating first.”

 

-

 

When Hermann and Cadet Namani leave the cafeteria, there is shouting in the hallway. Back near the doors, there is an even bigger crowd this time, and several more people trying to enter.

 

“You better go do your plan,” Namani says, her eyebrows drawing together, but then she looks up at him and smiles. “It’s gonna work.”

 

Hermann is filled with conflicting urges to sigh and do something ridiculous like ruffle her hair, but he manages to contain himself.

 

“Thank you,” he replies primly, and then he sets off past the crowd.

 

No one is waiting outside of the cell when he gets there, though Cadet Namani is sure to send someone eventually so that he’ll have help if something goes wrong. He lets himself in without hesitation. He comes to stand directly in front of Newt, above him really, and the precursors tilt his head back a little to look up at Hermann expectantly. Hermann leans forward as far as he can while maintaining his balance on his cane and he grabs one of Newt’s hands in his. Newt’s fingers twitch.

 

“Listen to me, Newton,” Hermann says. “You are going to break off your connection with the precursors and you are going to do it now. Alright? I know that you can do this and so do they and that’s why they’re scared.”

 

Newt’s fingers twitch again and some kind of recognition flashes across his face, but Hermann doesn’t know whose it is.

 

“I know that fighting them is dangerous and it hurts you and I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t the only way,” he continues. “I don’t want to ask you to do it. But I have to. You have to do it, and you can, and you will.”

 

Newt’s head shakes back and forth slowly; Hermann doesn’t know who’s controlling the motion. Blood begins to drip down his face.

 

“You don’t need them for anything, Newton. The things they’re offering you aren’t things you want. They don’t really know you. They’re in your head but they don’t understand us enough - they don’t understand you.”

 

“And you do?” the precursors ask through gritted teeth.

 

Newt’s fingers tighten around Hermann’s.

 

“Yes,” Hermann says. “Of course. Of course I do. And I don’t need to drift with you to do so. I understand why you were scared to say anything to me, Newton, but you don’t have to be. You have to know that being together would be easier - it would be the easiest thing we’ve ever done. It’s not some brave choice you have to make. You just have to - to be you.”

 

Hermann lets out a slightly hysterical laugh. The precursors have Newt’s jaw clenched tightly and his face is pink and Hermann is worried, so worried. The blood is dripping down his chin and onto his t-shirt. Hermann tugs his hand out of Newt’s and instead brings it to cup the side of his face. His jaw loosens just slightly under the touch, but he also lets out a groan of pain and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment.

 

“Look,” Hermann says all in a rush, “I want to - I want to be with you, Newton, arguing with you and saving the world with you and just sitting quietly with you wherever we end up for as long as we can. I want that. But I want you to be free for  _ you _ . You are an impossible little man who I miss desperately and it kills me that any part of you was ever alright with opening yourself up to this, that you felt like you on your own weren’t complete. It is absolutely false. You are wonderful and you are still in there and you are  _ whole _ .”

 

Newt lets out a harsh breath. His eyes are wet when they open.

 

“Hermann,” he manages, and he leans forward, upward, and Hermann leans in closer.

 

“You can do it,” Hermann says quietly, stroking his thumb under Newt’s eye and catching a tear. “Please.”

 

Newt surges forward again, startling Hermann, startling him even more so when he presses their mouths together, nearly knocking Hermann off balance, his nose smooshing against Hermann’s cheekbone. There is blood between their lips and Newt’s teeth haven’t been brushed in quite some time, but Hermann kisses back, too shocked to do anything else, because it is fully Newt, trembling under his hand.

 

Newt pulls back and opens his eyes and blinks up at Hermann, looking dazed.

 

“I - ” he begins, and then he stops.

 

He looks around the room, then up at Hermann.

 

“They’re gone?” he says. “They’re - they’re gone. Hermann, they’re gone.”

 

“What?” Hermann asks.

 

He uses the hand on Newt’s cheek to tilt his face to the side, then pull down his eyelid and peer into his eye, not sure what exactly he’s looking for.

 

“What are you doing?” Newt gripes, though he doesn’t pull his face away. “Stop it.”

 

“What do you mean they’re gone?” Hermann asks, insistent, digging his thumb into Newt’s cheekbone.

 

“I don’t know!” Newt yelps. “They’re not there anymore!”

 

“You - you broke off the connection,” Hermann mutters. “You really did it.”

 

“Hey,” Newt says, “I really did it because you said I could, don’t tell me now you didn’t actually think - ”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I did,” Hermann scoffs. “I need to run tests on you so that we can prove - ”

 

He starts to step away but then Newt starts yelling.

 

“Hey, hey, get back here,” he says. “No, come  _ here _ .”

 

Hermann gives in to what he knows is being asked of him. He rests his hand on Newt’s shoulder for support and leans down to kiss him again, still chaste but lingering this time, and that is when the doors to the cell slide open.

 

“Sorry,” Cadet Namani yells before anyone else can talk, “but I was watching the monitors and I figured people should, uh, be notified about the... change in circumstances?”

 

“Yes, thank you, cadet,” Hermann sighs. “Let’s start the testing, shall we?”

 

-

 

The first thing Hermann does is pull out a handkerchief and wipe both of their faces, though he knows his own face must be stained somewhat from the blood because Newt’s is. He cannot bring himself to care too greatly. Newt keeps looking at his mouth, which is a distraction, but one he grants himself.

 

Next he insists that Lambert goes to fetch Dr. Shao. He also sends Cadet Namani to get his stethoscope and his blood pressure cuff from his office because he’s not leaving Newt’s side. That leaves Pentecost, as well as a handful of other cadets who are waiting outside, watching on the monitor, at Lambert’s insistence.

 

Pentecost leans against the wall, his expression somewhere between hopeful and skeptical, and Hermann cannot blame him. There is no doubt in Hermann’s mind that Newt is in control and telling what he thinks is the truth. But after the initial shock wore off and he began to think logically again, he became aware that it could still be a trick, somehow. That they could still be in there somewhere, waiting to take over again, lurking. Hermann thinks it is best to act as though he is fully confident that Newt is himself again, both for the sake of not alerting the precursors to his suspicions if they are still there, and for the sake of supporting Newt if they are not. 

 

“You think we should wait til after you run all your scans again to let people in and start to explain what’s happening?” Pentecost asks.

 

“If we can keep them out for that long, yes,” Hermann replies. “I’d rather avoid getting interrupted.”

 

Hermann stands beside Newt, a hand on his arm.

 

“You’re gonna have to answer a lot of questions,” Pentecost directs at Newt. “From them, to get them to believe us and to get them off our backs, but also from us. Some of it can wait but some of it can’t - we’ve had no idea how imminent any more attacks are.”

 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Newt replies. “Not that I’m looking forward to it but I definitely expected it. Anyway, nothing’s  _ that _ imminent, they’ve been trying to regroup and figure out what to do to get me out of here, and panicking that I might actually get free of them, and deciding how to proceed if they lost me as an asset, so…”

 

His voice trails off after the use of the word “asset,” and Hermann squeezes his arm. Newt looks up at him and smiles distantly, and Hermann gives in to his urge to bring his hand to the back of Newt’s head and brush his fingers through his hair. The smile, as predicted, becomes more focused and real. It’s almost unsettling, how easy it is to read Newt, to know what to do, now that Newt is in control of himself again.

 

Dr. Shao and the supplies arrive, and Hermann makes quick work of running these tests, Dr. Shao watching closely and taking her own notes. Then it comes time to head to medical to perform the brain scans, and an awkward tension fills the room, but no one speaks at first, until Dr. Shao cuts through it.

 

“I think Dr. Geiszler sees the logic in his remaining restrained until we run all of our tests to confirm that the precursors have left him,” she says.

 

“Oh,” Newt says, “yeah, that’s fine, whatever we gotta to do get this over with, right?”

 

“I think we should still bring in some security just to be safe,” says Pentecost, though he sounds apologetic about it.

 

Newt agrees to that too, and while Hermann sees the logic as well, and is aware of the risk that they are being tricked, it’s a little disturbing to see Newt being so compliant and agreeable. A security guard comes in to uncuff Newt from the chair, and Newt holds up his bandaged wrists so the mobile cuffs can be put on. He stands up and lets the guard take his upper arm, but before the other guard can step in, Hermann moves to Newt’s other side and places a hand on the back of his neck.

 

As they exit the cell, Pentecost points toward the other cadets.

 

“Smallie, you go keep them under control, got it?”

 

Namani huffs but listens.

 

“Guess I should be glad I never got a nickname like that,” Newt says to himself as they start to walk down the hallway.

 

“Never?” Hermann asks.

 

Newt lets out an annoyed sound.

 

“That doesn’t count, I was like five, and it wasn’t even a nickname, just a generic insult, and you - you shouldn’t even know about that anyway, that’s not fair - ”

 

“And yet I do,” Hermann replies. 

 

The bickering continues, of course it does, and he can feel tension leaving Newt’s shoulders under his hand as well as his own, and he can see the bemused expression Pentecost and Lambert exchange, and he doesn’t care. He’s happier than he’s been in a long, long time.

 

Newt fades back into compliance when they arrive a medical, though, and Hermann’s stress comes back too as Newt gets strapped into place and he remembers why they’re here. The testing is going to take a long time, and Hermann is tired of waiting.

 

“Dr. Gottlieb,” says Dr. Shao once things have begun, “have you considered your options, if this isn’t enough evidence for them?”

 

“Yes,” Hermann replies shortly. “There don’t seem to be many.”

 

“And do you think it will be enough evidence for all of  _ us _ to feel sure? For you to feel sure?”

 

Hermann doesn’t respond. He had been wondering the same thing.

 

“It seems to me that the best way to prove the precursors are gone from Dr. Geiszler is for you to drift with him one more time,” Dr. Shao says.

 

“Even if that convinces me, convinces us that they’re gone,” Hermann says, “I’m much too biased for that to count as any kind of real evidence.”

 

“No one outside of what is left of the PPDC knows of your bias,” Dr. Shao replies. “I will vouch for you. And, Dr. Gottlieb, I think that once you are sure, your words and your passion will be convincing enough.”

 

After a moment, Hermann nods.

 

“Thank you, Dr. Shao,” he says quietly.

 

“I have enjoyed working with you, Dr. Gottlieb,” she replies. “I would offer you a fine job at Shao Industries if I thought you were at all likely to leave the PPDC. Or to work without Dr. Geiszler ever again.”

 

The scans take quite a bit of time. Hermann washes the blood fully off of his face. Someone brings food and an update that more bureaucrats have arrived; they’ve been let inside but told they have to wait. Hermann makes a note to make sure Newt gets to eat at some point, maybe between drifting and being questioned by the politicians.

 

When the testing is done, Hermann is pleased to see that the results reflect what he expected. They show a total absence of the abnormal activity he’d found the first time around, as well as no signs of permanent damage of any kind. He goes in to assist them in unstrapping and recuffing Newt to let him know what’s next.

 

“Staying still for that long is so hard,” Newt gripes as Hermann helps him sit up with his hands cuffed. “How were the results?”

 

“Good,” Hermann replies shortly. “One more thing before we start trying to convince everyone else to let you go though. You and I are going to drift again so we can be sure they’re gone.”

 

Newt looks up at him for a long moment. He has to know that they’re all still worried that the precursors are in there; he has to know that Hermann wants him to be free but can’t trust it yet. As much as it makes sense, it can’t feel great. He shifts his hands to where one of Hermann’s rests on the lip of the table and he grabs it between his own.

 

“That’s a good plan,” he says.

 

He sounds tired, but he also sounds like he means it. Hermann gives into his urge to lean forward and press his lips to Newt’s temple. Newt leans into it and sighs. After a moment, Hermann steps back to help him down.

 

Hermann’s stomach clenches as they make their way to the practice Pons system. He has no idea what he’s going to do if the precursors are still in Newt’s head. He’s trying to come up with a plan but his only thoughts are panicked. Newt keeps sending him glances as they walk.

 

“We’re almost there,” he says quietly. “It’ll be done soon.”

 

Hermann lets out a quick, shaky breath. Newt shouldn’t be the one doing the comforting here. He brings his hand to Newt’s shoulder and squeezes and sends him what he hopes is a grateful smile, though he doesn’t think he succeeds.

 

It’s true, though; they reach the room and get set up quickly. Hermann spends a moment trying to squash his panic before they begin, but he knows it’s useless, and besides, his negative feelings are coming from a place it’s safe to let Newt see - it’s all born out of concern for him. He manages to find his hope that things will, in fact, work out this time, manages to center himself between the worry and the hope and clear his mind somewhat so that when the handshake is initiated, he won’t get sucked into any memories. When Pentecost asks if he’s ready, he nods and closes his eyes.

 

He can tell right away that it’s just his memories and Newt’s in the drift. The handshake stabilizes almost instantly, and the initial wave of senses and memories is easy to let slide past. It’s just the two of them.

 

After a moment, though, Hermann panics: this might have been what it felt like for Newt back when they first entered his brain. They might be there and he just can’t sense them. Maybe there isn’t any way to know for sure, and if that’s the case, what is Hermann going to do -

 

Newt sends him a wave of calm and reassurance and understanding. He sends a sense memory of what it felt like for him shortly after they drifted with the precursors - flashes of what he thought were moments of ghost drifting, new intrusive thoughts he blamed on his own brain. Nothing that distinctly pointed to an ongoing connection with the hivemind, but enough that Hermann would be able to sense it if it was happening now. 

 

It’s not happening now.

 

The rush of relief he feels is doubled and reflected back at him, warm and overwhelming. When he opens his eyes, they’re wet, and Newt is looking right back at him, mirroring his expression.

 

“Turn this bloody thing off,” Hermann says, his voice choked, and Newt laughs.

 

Once they are both detached from the Pons system, Newt is uncuffed from the chair, and his hands remain free. Hermann grabs his cane and stands up and meets Newt in the middle, between the two chairs. Newt wraps his arms around Hermann’s middle and Hermann wraps his arm around Newt’s shoulders and they stand that way for a long time.

 

-

 

Someone does drop off more food, so Newt is at least able to eat before they head to meet the collection of bureaucrats and assistants and handful of actually important politicians who’ve been rounded up into the cafeteria. Hermann isn’t sure how much of the talking he’s going to be doing as opposed to Pentecost or Lambert or Dr. Shao, but he stands with them at the front of the room and he keeps his hands off of Newt, who stands next to him, looking nervous. Hermann wants to touch him, but he thinks it would be best that he doesn’t appear biased.

 

Pentecost and Lambert explain the basics of the situation, and Hermann and Dr. Shao get into the technical elements. There is a lot of interrupting. There are a lot of questions. Newt answers what he can, about the precursors’ plans, about their home, stammering, talking with his hands. He’s shaken, but he knows what he’s talking about, and he’s clearly willing to share what he knows. He’s always been good at describing things in terms that most people can understand, and at captivating his audience even when he trails off into tangents. Hermann only has to prod him in the side twice to get him back on track, thankfully.

 

It all goes surprisingly smoothly until a particular question is asked.

 

“Wouldn’t it have been more of an asset to us keep him hooked up to the precursors, to kind of have him as a spy?”

 

Hermann snaps.

 

“Even if that plan would have worked,” he sneers, “even if they wouldn’t have broken the connection themselves or made him harm himself the first time they got the chance, it is unconscionable to ask one man to sacrifice himself like that, or worse, to force it upon him without giving him a choice. His will has been taken from him for long enough.”

 

His hands are shaking. He can’t allow himself to look at Newt. Pentecost reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, though, and that does help to steady him a bit, which surprises Hermann, but perhaps it shouldn’t.

 

Hermann loses track of the conversation for a bit after that. When he tunes back it, it doesn’t sound like any conclusions have been reached, or any consensus on whether or not to believe them. What’s important is that no one of any particular power is present, no one knows what to do with the PPDC as a whole yet, and a lot more people need to be consulted before any decisions are made. This means, for the time being, at least, Newt can’t actually face any kind of consequences.

 

“Well,” Pentecost says, “this is a mess. But. Everyone should go get some rest. I would treat this like a don’t-run-or-you’ll-look-guilty situation, though, Geiszler, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Newt says, and Hermann expects there to be a follow-up, and insistence on calling him by his nickname, but there is none.

 

Newt looks exhausted, more so than Hermann had realized; maybe all of his adrenaline has left him at last. He grabs Newt’s wrist and tilts his head toward the doors, and Newt nods, following him.

 

As soon as they turn a corner, Hermann plants his hand firmly between Newt’s shoulder blades. Newt walks alongside him quietly, a dazed, sleepy shuffle. When they’re almost there, Newt stops suddenly, and he turns, and he wraps his arms around Hermann’s middle and buries his face against Hermann’s shoulder.

 

“Newton,” Hermann says uncertainly, bringing his arm around Newt’s shoulders.

 

Newt shudders and lets out a hot breath against Hermann’s collar.

 

“Newton, we’re almost to my room.”

 

“I know,” Newt says, scratchy and muffled and wet.

 

“Darling, please,” Hermann says, “you can make it a few more steps.”

 

Newt lets out a small, distressed sound, and Hermann brings his hand to the back of Newt’s head and shifts them both so they can look at one another. Newt’s face is red and his eyes are damp. Hermann sighs and brings his fingers to Newt’s chin and leans forward and kisses him. Newt brings his hands up to cup either side of Hermann’s face gently and promptly lets out a sob against his mouth, which is disgusting.

 

“Sorry,” he says, his lips still touching Hermann’s.

 

Hermann sighs again. Newt pulls away and begins to walk, but not before grabbing Hermann’s hand in his own. They finally make it to his room. Hermann goes directly to his dresser and pulls out a pair of pajamas for himself. For Newt, who is still in the spare clothes he was given a few days ago, and whose pajama preference he is already aware of, he grabs a plain undershirt and a pair of briefs. 

 

Newt, with tears still clinging to his eyelashes, smirks when Hermann hands him a pair of his own undergarments to put on. Hermann rolls his eyes and turns back to his own pajamas, but Newt comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist. He presses his front all along Hermann’s back, but he keeps his grip loose, as though Hermann might even consider stepping away. Hermann places his hand over Newt’s on his stomach.

 

“I don’t care what ideas you have,” Hermann says. “We’re going right to sleep.”

 

Newt snorts and presses a kiss to the back of Hermann’s neck, right below his hairline.

 

“Hey,” he says, and his arms tighten around Hermann’s waist as he pauses for a long moment. “I love you.”

 

His words are quiet but sure. Hermann turns in his grip so that he can look at Newt. He tilts Newt’s chin up so that their eyes meet.

 

“You know I love you,” he says.

 

“I don’t think I know anything for sure anymore,” Newt says distantly.

 

He laughs, but he stops abruptly when Hermann shifts to cup his cheek, bringing their faces close together. Newt’s arms tighten around his waist again.

 

“Newton, I love you,” he says. “I have for a very long time. And I’m  _ here _ . When you have doubts, all you need to do is ask me.”

 

Newt blinks up at him owlishly for a moment, his mouth slack. Then he leans up and kisses Hermann urgently, sliding his hands up Hermann’s back to pull them closer together. When he pulls away, his mouth is red and swollen and wholly distracting.

 

“You sure about the just sleeping thing?” he asks, and Hermann’s delay in answering is telling enough on its own.

 

“Quite sure,” he manages eventually, though he does press their mouths together again briefly before pulling away.

 

Newt heads toward the toilet, but then he stops, staring toward the doorway.

 

“What is it?” Hermann asks.

 

“I - I haven’t brushed my teeth in ages,” he starts.

 

“Yes, I’d noticed,” Hermann replies drily, but when Newt doesn’t react he takes a few steps toward him.

 

“I just - I assumed you had a spare toothbrush in your bathroom because you always used to have a spare toothbrush and then I realized I might be wrong, I mean, it’s been a long time, and I don’t - I don’t want to be wrong, I don’t want to know if I’m wrong - ”

 

Hermann grabs the side of his face and turns him, tilts his head up.

 

“I have a spare toothbrush. That hasn’t changed. Some other things surely have, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t know me anymore. Of course we still know each other.”

 

There is a part of him that is worried about the same things, obviously there is, but Hermann doesn’t think it’s wrong to project the kind of confidence that will reassure them both.

 

“Do you really feel like you still know me?” Newt asks. “I don’t know how you can. I don’t know who I am now. When was the last time I even made a choice?”

 

“You’ve made plenty of choices today. You chose to fight against the precursors. You chose answers to all of the questions you were asked. You chose what to eat. You still existed in there the whole time alongside the precursors, Newton. You were never gone. And I’m sure you spent most of that time thinking about the choices you would make if you could, hm?”

 

Newt leans forward to press his forehead against Hermann’s shoulder, and Hermann cradles the back of his head.

 

“I do still know you,” Hermann says, “and you still know me, and you certainly still know yourself. Now go brush your teeth and shower.”

 

Newt spends just long enough in the shower that Hermann is considering checking on him to make sure he isn’t having a panic attack after all, but when he emerges, he looks calm and sleepy. Hermann enters the toilet next, and when he comes out a few minutes later, Newt is curled up on the far side of the bed, the blankets already pulled up to his neck.

 

“I forgot how uncomfortable these beds are,” he says muzzily, but he sounds content.

 

Hermann has to take a moment to stare at the image he’d wanted for so long, spent so long thinking he’d never get to see. Then he turns off the light and joins Newt in the bed. After a long moment, he turns to Newt and holds out his arm.

 

“Come here,” he says.

 

“Thank god,” Newt mutters, and he comes to rest his head and his arm across Hermann’s chest.

 

He shifts and presses a kiss to Hermann’s neck, this his jaw, then his cheek, and Hermann’s breath catches, and Newt smiles against his cheekbone. Hermann turns his head to catch his mouth - much more pleasant now that his teeth have been brushed. After a few moments he pulls back and Newt butts his nose up against Hermann’s.

 

“Can we make out a little before we go to sleep?” Newt asks.

 

“I would like that very much,” Hermann says.

 

-

 

Hermann wakes up with his nose buried in the hair on the crown of Newt’s head, spooning him, an arm tucked over his waist and a hand tucked under his shirt. He lets himself luxuriate in it for a bit, before he gets up to deal with the reality of the situation, the uncertainty that still surrounds them. When he finally gets up, Newt doesn’t stir, so he gets ready for the day. He’s not entirely sure what to do about clothing for Newt in the short-term; maybe Pentecost can provide more clothing until the current set is washed or until Hermann can get out to buy something.

 

Newt stirs eventually, and Hermann goes to sit down on the edge of the bed. Newt rolls over to face him as he rubs at his eyes. When he opens them, he huffs out a disbelieving breath.

 

“I wasn’t sure where I was for a second,” he says quietly. “And then I thought I was still asleep when I figured it out.”

 

“This is real,” Hermann replies, reaching out to place a hand on Newt’s belly.

 

Newt smiles up at him, but then it shutters.

 

“For now, at least,” he says. “They might lock me up again.”

 

“I’m not going to let them do that. I’ll figure something out.”

 

Newt stares up at him. Hermann thinks Newt knows how seriously he means that.

 

“You,” Newt starts, his voice cracking, “you’re doing - you’ve done so much for me, to save me. I can’t believe you would do all of this for me.” 

 

“I’m doing this so I can be with you,” Hermann says, shaking his head. “It’s not some selfless act.”

 

“That’s not true,” Newt replies. “You said you were doing it for me, not for you, and I know you meant that.”

 

“Regardless,” Hermann says. “I don’t want anything except you.”

 

Newt sits up and brings his hands to either side of Hermann’s face and kisses him, gently at first, then deeper. Hermann lets his hand slip under Newt’s shirt again. Newt pulls back after a bit.

 

“I have a question,” he says, though Hermann can tell from his tone that he’s about to mock him. “Were you always this romantic or did you get that after drifting with me?”

 

“I haven’t had much of a chance to find out since drifting with you, have I?” Hermann replies.

 

He knows Newt wasn’t fishing to find out if there was anyone else, but it’s an easy bit of information to give. Newt’s eyes widen a little.

 

“God, come here,” he says, and he hauls Hermann back in.

 

He slides one hand down Hermann’s neck and into his collar, undoing the top couple of buttons and following it with his mouth.

 

“Don’t you dare leave any marks,” Hermann says, placing a hand on the back of his head in warning. “We have places to be today and we need to get moving soon.”   
  


“Soon but not yet,” Newt replies against his throat, head bent at an awkward angle. “Come on, we have time.”

 

“Not enough time.”

 

“Sure we do,” Newt says, distracted, moving up under his ear, kissing between every few words. “I’ve wanted to be with you for ages. I just wanna be with you, I don’t care what we’re doing or how quick it is. I want whatever you’ll give me.”

 

Hermann spares a hysterical moment to wonder if Newt was always romantic, if maybe he did inherit it from Newt. He digs his fingers into Newt’s hair.

 

“You don’t want it to be special?” Hermann asks. “After all that build-up, all these years, you don’t want to be - intentional about it?”

 

Newt pulls back and his mouth twists; Hermann thinks he’s touched but also considering making fun of Hermann.

 

“Intentional like what?” he asks. “Like, rose petals and candles, or - ”

 

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Hermann says. “I have plans for you. Plans that take time.”

 

Newt’s mouth snaps shut and his cheeks turn very faintly pink.

 

“Oh,” he says hoarsely. “I - yeah. I’ve thought about it too. You - what did you plan exactly?”

 

Hermann leans forward to give him one final, thorough kiss.

 

“You’ll find out,” he says, and then he stands. “Now, come on, do you have a guess as to what you’re going to wear today? Because I don’t.”

 

“Well I already have a perfectly good shirt on,” Newt says.

 

“At least switch to one you didn’t sleep in,” Hermann replies.

 

He doesn’t bother to comment on the fact that Hermann’s shirt fits him a little awkwardly and rides up a bit; if wearing Hermann’s clothing will make him comfortable, it’s what they’ll do. He goes over to his dresser to take out a clean shirt and pair of briefs, then digs until he finds some dark lounge trousers that are loose and can be cuffed without it being too noticeable. 

 

While he works, Newt gets up and goes over to the small wardrobe. Hermann has no idea what he’s looking for, but Newt grabs an ancient gray cardigan that’s missing a few buttons and is starting to wear through at the elbows and seams. Hermann has been meaning to get rid of it, actually, but it’s one of the last things he has still from before, from the last apocalypse, and Newt must recognize it as such.

 

Newt bunches up the material and presses it against his face, breathing it in. He holds it there for a long moment. Then he seems to remember he’s not alone and he sends Hermann a sheepish smile.

 

“I forgot,” he says. “I can sniff the real you whenever I want now.”

 

“Maybe not  _ whenever _ you want,” Hermann replies, gently teasing, as he gestures to the clothing he pulled out. “We aren’t the same shoe size, so would you like to take my slippers for now?” 

 

“Yeah, sure,” Newt says as he shuffles over to inspect the trousers Hermann picked out. “God, it’s so nice to wear comfortable clothes for once.”

 

Hermann brings his hand to the nape of Newt’s neck, brushing his thumb there. He’s tempted to ask if Newt’s old clothing is still around somewhere or if the precursors got rid of it all, but he also doesn’t want to bring it up.

 

“Why don’t you go get ready?” he says instead.

 

Newt nods and gathers up the clothing, and then he kisses Hermann on the cheek before he heads to the toilet. Hermann just barely resists the urge to bring his fingers to his cheek. 

 

He can’t blame Newt for his disbelief that this is really happening. It’s something they’ve both wanted for so long, though circumstances are wildly different than Hermann ever imagined. It’s odd to think that what he desired for the last ten years has to be quite different from what Newt pictured, because Newt knew the reality of the situation.

 

Well, maybe he can work to make this the best version of what Newt imagined. Whatever that turns out to be will surely work for Hermann too.

 

-

 

Unfortunately, their obligations for the day mostly involve meeting up with everyone who arrived overnight to explain the situation again and get questioned again. They are, at least, all less tired this time, and more prepared for the types of questions they will get. By lunchtime, Pentecost manages to herd them all out of the cafeteria so that everyone who actually works for the PPDC can eat.

 

Newt looks more nervous than he had during this round of questioning as people begin to file into the cafeteria. Hermann finally lets himself touch Newt, puts a hand on his arm.

 

“We don’t have to eat in here if you don’t want to,” Hermann says, “but you should probably get it over with sooner than later. And no one is going to give you a hard time. They’re just curious.”

 

“How do you know that?” Newt asks quietly.

 

Dr. Shao, standing close enough to hear, turns to look at Newt piercingly.

 

“Everyone here trusts Dr. Gottlieb’s opinion and also wants the best for him,” she says.

 

Newt startles slightly, but then he turns a considering look on Hermann.

 

“I guess I just assumed with the way we were treated at the Shatterdome during the last apocalypse…”

 

“They understand that my, that our work was vital the last time around,” Hermann says. “And I effectively  _ am _ the K-Science division. They don’t really say no to me.”

 

He shrugs. He’s not bragging, but he’s not shy about it either; there is a part of him that hopes that Newt will be pleased by the way Hermann is treated now and that he’ll be happy to come work for the PPDC again as a result. He doesn’t really think Newt would do anything else, but motivation for him to come back can’t hurt.

 

“Good to know,” Newt says.

 

He still has that considering look on his face. Hermann is increasingly suspicious that the expression is meant to convey something dirty.

 

“Well, alright,” Newt continues after a second, “if you’re so sure everyone’s gonna be buddy-buddy, let’s eat.”

 

Predictably, the moment that Hermann sits down across from Newt, Cadet Namani appears.

 

“Dr. Gottlieb,” she greets brightly, and then she sits down next to him, one leg on either side of the bench, facing him. “I told you your plan would work!”

 

“Yes,” Hermann replies after a moment, “thank you for your inspiration.”

 

She plows past his sarcasm, turning to Newt.

 

“Hi,” she says. “I’m Amara Namani. I’m a cadet.”

 

“I’m Newt,” he replies, narrowing his eyes. “Did you stop the big one? With Jake Pentecost?”

 

“Yeah,” she replies, looking just slightly nervous.

 

“You’re pretty new, right?” Newt asks. “That’s really impressive. Great job. And, uh… thanks.”

 

Namani tilts her head to the side.

 

“If you’re thanking me for saving the world generally, then you’re welcome, but if you’re thanking me for stopping you, then you don’t have to, ‘cause it wasn’t you.”

 

Newt blinks at her, then turns to Hermann, who shrugs just slightly. He agrees with Namani, of course, though he’s just as surprised by her conviction.

 

“Oh,” Namani adds, “I’m gonna do my best to keep the other cadets from asking you questions they shouldn’t, but I can’t make any promises, okay? Teenage boys can’t be controlled. And I don’t know what’s going on in Vik’s head even though I drifted with her.”

 

Newt just kind of blinks at her again, even though he is well experienced with that kind of rambling, so Hermann sighs and responds.

 

“We appreciate the effort,” he says. “Thank you, cadet.”

 

Namani smiles and hops back up off of the bench.

 

“Wow,” Newt says after a second. “Apparently I could have just stayed at the PPDC and been treated like a rock star this whole time.”

 

He’s joking, so Hermann thinks the best step is to joke along with him.

 

“No, that’s special treatment reserved just for me,” he replies primly, and Newt gently kicks at his good leg under the table.

 

Newt is quiet as they finish up eating. Hermann can tell he’s working over something specific. After a few minutes, he gives up.

 

“Just ask me,” he says.

 

Newt looks up, guilty for a second, and then he smiles a bit uncomfortably.

 

“You know,” he says, “you keep doing stuff like that and I keep thinking it’s because of the drifting but we were like this before, weren’t we.”

 

Hermann’s not sure if that means his memories from before the precursors are foggy or changed by their outside perspective or intentional tainting. He finds he doesn’t want to know the answer, but he knows he will ask. Just not yet.

 

“We were,” Hermann agrees, and he reaches his hand across the table until Newt takes it. “What is it?”

 

“I wanna go outside,” Newt says helplessly, shrugging. “But I know I shouldn’t. As soon as I step out the door people will panic.”

 

Newt was never particularly one to enjoy the outdoors, but Hermann understands the restlessness he must be feeling, and more than that, the drive to do even something you don’t normally want to do when you haven’t been allowed to choose to do it for a very long time.

 

“I might have a solution,” Hermann replies. “I say might because I don’t know how structurally sound it is anymore.”

 

Newt grabs both of their trays and stands up.

  
“Sounds like my kinda date,” he replies, his smile a little manic.

 

Hermann leads Newt through the Shatterdome. They have to pass through some hallways that are exposed to the elements, but the stairwell he intends for them to use is fully intact when they reach it. At the top, a door opens onto a balcony along the mouth of the dome. They are high up with nowhere to go, they are alone, and they are outside, wind whipping at their hair and sun shining in their eyes.

 

Newt walks to the edge and grabs onto the railing. Hermann presses a kiss to the back of his head and then stands next to him, placing a hand on top of his.

 

“How do you feel?” Hermann asks.

 

“I’m outside but I can’t go anywhere,” Newt says distantly, drumming the fingers of his free hand against the railing. “I feel like this is as free as I’m gonna get.”

 

After a second, he turns to look at Hermann, reaching up to cup his jaw, guilt crossing his face. Hermann hates to see him outwardly second-guessing himself, without his bravado.

 

“I’m sorry,” Newt says. “You got me outside, despite everything. Thank you.”

 

Hermann doesn’t want that to be it; he doesn’t want to get Newt only part of the way to freedom. He wants to do better. He has to.

 

-

 

Shortly after they head back inside, Pentecost finds them.

 

“There you are,” he says. “They want to talk to you in the briefing room. They’ve set up shop in there, got a bunch more people up on video calls. I think they reached a decision.”

 

After a second, he steps forward and holds out his hand for Hermann to shake, then Newt.

 

“Good luck,” he says. 

 

“Thank you,” Hermann replies, and after a pause, he continues, “You were a great help during all of this. Not just professionally, but to me personally.”

 

“Oh,” Pentecost replies, mildly startled. “Well, good. I’m glad. You’re welcome, mate.”

 

He claps Hermann on the shoulder before he steps away. Hermann brings his attention back to Newt, who looks lost. He takes a deep breath and buries his own worry as best he can.

 

“Come on,” Hermann says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It will be done soon. Let’s get it over with.”

 

Newt nods, stepping in close to Hermann’s side as they set off. Hermann allows himself to keep his hand on Newt’s shoulder until they’re close.

 

Many of the people in the briefing room Hermann recognizes from their previous rounds of questioning, but there’s also many additional faces projected around the room that he doesn’t find familiar. There are two chairs set up for them near the middle of the room. 

 

The man who comes to stand in front of them is vaguely familiar to Hermann - American, southern, a solid mix of curious and suspicious in his questions yesterday. Hermann doesn’t know why he’s been chosen to speak until he starts speaking; his voice is lilting, the type of friendly that is wholly professional and meant to make whatever he says sound rational and well-intentioned. A good choice for them, but less so for Hermann and Newt, maybe.

 

“Dr. Geiszler,” the man begins, “on the whole, we believe that you were under control when you committed the actions you committed. We also, for the most part, believe that you are no longer under that control. We don’t have any plans to lock you up.”

 

Hermann releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and he hears Newt do the same beside him. He resists the urge to reach out.

 

“That being said,” the man continues, his tone veering into something falsely apologetic, “you possess a lot of vital intel. I don’t know if you planned to come back to the PPDC, but we… strongly encourage it. We also want to keep you under supervision… just in case it turns out there are some aliens still poking around up there at all. Dr. Gottlieb, you two were lab partners for years and you know this man well. We’d like for you to work together again, for you to keep an eye on Dr. Geiszler.”

 

Hermann stares up at him, furious.

 

“You don’t trust me either, do you?” he asks. 

 

“That’s not at all what I said, Dr. Gottlieb,” the man says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “But you have to agree that it’s a pretty big risk to let the two of you run off when we know what already happened to Dr. Geiszler. It’d be quite a hassle to keep an eye on you if you decide not the work for the PPDC anymore, but I’m sure we could work something out, right?”

 

“You don’t have the approval to lock Dr. Geiszler up but you’re perfectly happy to threaten us into continuing to work for you,” Hermann seethes, and Newt reaches out and puts a warning hand on his knee.

 

“Who’s threatening? I think we have perfectly valid concerns here. Now you two can take some time to think over your decision, but don’t take too long, alright?”

 

Hermann stands swiftly, dislodging Newt’s hand, and Newt comes close behind him.

 

“Hermann,” he says as soon as they’re in the hallway, “Hermann, look, it’s not fair that they’re dragging you into this but I can’t blame them for wanting to keep an eye on me.”

 

“An eye,” Hermann scoffs. “They want to imprison you without a cell.”

 

“That’s better than I was hoping for,” Newt says, hooking his hand around Hermann’s elbow so that he has to slow down.

 

Hermann stops and turns to look at Newt, one of his hands coming up to grip his cardigan, Hermann’s cardigan that Newt is wearing, even though it fits him poorly and is nearly falling apart. It looks ridiculous; it looks perfect.

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Hermann says urgently. “We don’t have to stay here. We can just - go. Somewhere they won’t find us.”

 

“Hermann,” Newt sighs, reaching up to cup his face. “Is this what you feel like when I talk? Be quiet and think. What would we do if we had to live under the radar? We’d get bored in two days. If we stay, we get to continue doing the work we love. And work definitely still has to be done. I want to stop the precursors. Don’t you?”

 

Hermann sighs and leans down to rest his forehead against Newt’s, moving his hand to Newt’s hip, closing his eyes for a long moment.

 

“Of course I do,” he says. “Of course, darling. I don’t really  _ want _ to leave. I just can’t stand your choices being taken away from you.”

 

“I really love you,” Newt says earnestly, leaning up to kiss him. “We’re gonna be okay, Hermann.”

 

He lets himself picture it. In a lab, together again, or maybe just Hermann’s office, but regardless, together. Shouting, solving problems, throwing things. But this time, they can indulge in what they couldn’t before, do what they were afraid to. They can ruin Hermann’s equations by kissing up against his blackboard. It will be similar to what he has spent so much time imagining. It won’t be the same. But it will be close. And it will be much closer to the best scenario Newt imagined for himself. That is not nothing. That is significant.

 

New parameters to work with. Hermann has always been excellent at taking his circumstances, at taking the figures presented to him, and making them work, finding the solution, persevering.

 

He can take this situation, he can take Newt’s vision for them, and find the best possible outcome. He can make that happen.

 

“Yes, alright,” Hermann agrees after a moment. “We’ll work together and we’ll save the world again and we’ll deal with whoever they put in charge this time and we’ll be fine.”

 

“We’ll be  _ happy _ ,” Newt says, stroking his thumbs along Hermann’s cheekbones. “I’m already the happiest I’ve been in ten years.”

 

“God, so am I,” Hermann says, kissing him again, squeezing his hip. 

 

It’s true. He’s gotten caught up in all the possible outcomes, and he’s failed to focus on the one he’s been granted. Any outcome in which he and Newt are back together again, no matter the circumstances, is a happy outcome. He is unbelievably, riotously happy.

 

“You’re right,” Hermann continues. “This is reason enough to celebrate.”

 

“Oh,” Newt says, smirking, “you got any ideas for how we should celebrate?”

 

“I have a whole list,” Hermann replies.

 

“I love that you mean that literally,” Newt says, and then he grabs Hermann’s hand and hauls him off toward their room.

 

Hermann does, in fact, have a list of what he wants to do to Newt, with Newt; he has many lists like this, in fact, some in his head, some scribbled in his notebooks, some written on a chalkboard and then erased. Places they could live. Instances in which Hermann has proven something Newt said wrong but hasn’t had the opportunity to actually tell him about yet. All of the times he almost confessed that he loved him but didn’t.

 

He imagines he will keep making these lists, both physical and in his mind, even though he has Newt back. A tally of the times in one day Newt annoys him enough to throw something but he heroically refrains. What items they need to purchase for Newt and for the bigger room they will move into, with half of the suggestions crossed out by each other. Each of the things Newt does that makes him think,  _ I love you. I love you. _

 

That last list is sure to be a long one.

 

When they reach their room, Newt presses Hermann up against the door and leans up on his toes to kiss him thoroughly. Hermann reaches down to palm his ass, remembering suddenly that the only fabric between skin belongs to him. Can he add that to the list, even though it’s not necessarily something Newt did?

 

“Stop thinking and take my pants off,” Newt says directly into his mouth, in the middle of the hallway.

 

“You are awful,” Hermann says desperately, urgently. “I love you.”

 

Newt laughs, pressing his nose into Hermann’s cheek, curling his fingers into Hermann’s sweater vest. That last list, Hermann decides, must stay in his head. Its content can never be exposed to anyone.

 

Except Newt, who has been in his head, who already knows, who is going to stay no matter what.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [ch3ry1b10ss0m](http://ch3ry1b10ss0m.tumblr.com)


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